On Epiphanies
by GimmeTehMudkipz
Summary: Sacred Stones FE8 . Follow the royal misadventures of ruling kingdoms and finding love, as well as the tribulations and trials of attempting to repair the damage from the War of the Stones.
1. Prologue: The Bets

_**On Epiphanies**_

Fire Emblem, crack is thy name. …At least to me it is…

So many happy endings abound, I was a little nonplussed upon seeing some of the epilogues for the characters. Which is why I've decided to go ahead and concoct a fic concerning the details of what happened to some of the characters. Though the fic will flit from character to character and various points in time (during the game, briefly thereafter, several years thereafter), the (relatively) primary focus will be on Ephraim, Joshua, and the efforts to rebuild Grado, since those nations suffered the most damage. Since when the hell was royal feudalism about happy days and comfort, anyways? Reconstruction is _never_ easy.

Relationships, I don't quite know yet – this story is going to get _very_ convoluted as far as romance goes, as Joshua, Ephraim, and Eirika will have to choose between duty to their country – which could entail being married to foreign royalty, among other things – and their own feelings and desires. Not that what they want will be clear, of course. Expect twists and context to be added to support conversations.

"speech"

_thoughts_ / _flashbacks / emphasis / etc.  
_

And here goes…

* * *

**Prologue: The Bets**

**

* * *

**

"They _won't_ be happy about this…at _all_…"

"No, they won't."

The slurred tone to her response made him turn his head to the woman currently leaning her weight on him and draping an arm across his shoulder – and he winced as the bleeding scratch on his temple flared in pain. "You need to take it easy – no telling what kind of poison might be in the arrows. You're lucky I'm not just carrying you back – you _did_ have to fight a lot harder, so the poison could have spread further if there was one."

She responded with a noncommittal grunt.

He stared at her for a moment, until she dully turned her lavender eyes to his crimson ones. Sighing in response, he shook his head and said, "You know what? You _really_ need to quit being such a sourpuss. Enjoy life some, ya know? Good thing you and I will do just that once we get home to Jehanna."

Recognition of the deal she'd made with him shined briefly in her eyes, and the ghost of a smile flitted across the mercenary's face before her stoic expression quashed it.

Narrowing his eyes, the brand-new king of the desert nation frowned at the purple-haired woman. "Is that…a smile?"

Marisa glared at him in response. "Do you have a problem with it?"

Joshua responded with his best lady-killing grin. "You look prettier when you smile like that, that's all."

She darkly glared at him again, but that didn't hide her other reaction. _Is that…is that a…by the Stones, is she blushing? Or am I just seeing things in the moonlight?_ The redhead killed the urge to grin – poisoned she might be, an embarrassed Marisa was likely to be entirely unpredictable, and in a bad way. So he simply returned his attention to supporting her as the two of them steadily made it back to Rausten Court and their lodgings.

_How the hell did all of this happen again?_ Still in disbelief, Joshua tried to recall exactly what had culminated in this pretty ice queen hanging off of his shoulder…

* * *

"Haaaaaaaaamm…!" 

Joshua suddenly paused, tentatively reaching at the sudden pain in his mouth. _Did I just pull a muscle in my jaw yawning?_

_That sounds like something Forde would do…_. Shaking his head in disbelief, the red-headed gambling addict continued his leisurely stroll through the halls of Rausten's (quasi) luxurious palace, which was surprisingly intact, considering the massive surprise assault that had been launched against it a week and a half ago. A few surviving soldiers were standing watch, but they were all battle-weary and shaken, making sneaking out easier. Not that it wasn't already child's play for the desert prince to evade their patrols – how else would he have escaped Jehanna's grand halls as a youth?

Finally making his way outside the walls of Rausten Court, he checked the elixirs and Steel Sword he brought with him one final time (the absence of a Killing Edge, not to mention Audhulma, from the supply convoy would be much more noticeable) then looked up and began his routine late-night stroll.

Or would have, if he didn't find one Crimson Flash standing in his way.

Joshua raised an eyebrow at Marisa. "What brings you out here?" There was no need to ask, considering her Shamshir's handle looked a little moist – always a sure sign of her having just fought. _Can't clean sweat off the handle, after all._

"A Knight of Rausten asked for a spar. I bested him – three times. His friends tried, but they weren't much either." She narrowed her eyes at the redhead royalty. "What are you doing out?"

"I like to take a stroll in the chilly night air. Jolts me a little, makes me feel more alive." He paused for dramatic effect, then fixed the purple-haired mercenary with his gaze, which she returned coolly. _How else?_ Joshua commented to himself. "Care to join me?"

She did not avert her gaze for several seconds. Then, she replied, "Even after the death of the Demon King, we still have many enemies.

"If only to keep you alive, I will join you."

The redhead sniffed. "I can defend myself _very_ capably, thank you very much. Don't slight the skills of someone who can beat you."

Her reply came without hesitation, and without the haste of a slighted ego. "You yourself said we were still even. Don't change your words."

Raising both hands in surrender, Joshua replied, "All right, all right. Let's go already."

* * *

"You still remember that deal you made with me?"

The clear night and the full moon lit their path brilliantly, thankfully sparing them of the need for torches; _that_ would have attracted undue attention, and would result in their walk being aborted. The trees and their leaves whistled to the tune of the breeze, and the soft chill of the wind created a pleasant feeling. Not too harsh, not too cold – just right, as Joshua might have said.

"Well?"

Marisa looked to her left, where Joshua was walking alongside her, his slouched gait contrastingly sharply with her alert marching. Marisa knew that her fellow swordsman's easy-going demeanor belied his tremendous skills with the blade, but it still puzzled her as to why the prince (or was it king?) of her homeland didn't show more discipline. _I suppose that Fate destined Joshua to be the foil of a more rigid leader, like Innes._

That sister of the Frelian prince's, Tana, also came to Marisa's thoughts. If Joshua and Innes were yin and yang, then Tana was _her_ exact opposite. Always smiling and talkative, she was one of the few in the group who routinely tried to spark conversation with the stoic and silent blade master. Not that the princess annoyed Marisa (at least not anymore) – she was quite used to Ewan's cheeky hyperactivity, and the blue-haired woman was a considerably less boisterous person than the junior mage. The lavender-haired woman found Tana's outgoing nature somewhere between half-amusing and half-endearing. It just puzzled her as to why royalty such as her would go out of her way to associate with mercenaries. It was surprising indeed, when contrasted with the innocent remark the now wyvern knight (thanks to watching Cormag's battlefield handiwork) had made concerning mercenaries the first time she'd approached Marisa.

"It's not like you to space out. Hey! Ya there?"

Shaken from her thoughts, Marisa frowned. _Yes…it is unseemly for me to be lost in thought._ "Hm?"

"You were staring at me." He paused, then chuckled. "You got lost in my eyes, didn't you? Go ahead and admit it – you love me." Joshua's cheeky grin looked like it could induce screaming and fainting from most females.

Marisa, however, was most decidedly not like most females. "The deal?"

"Yeah. Just wondering if you were still up to it. After all, I imagine a lot of lucrative work will be available in dealing with bandits over in Grado. I know you like to swing your sword around, so…"

The swordswoman wrinkled her nose. "A warrior keeps her promises. I'll help you with your royal duties however I can." She paused briefly, remembering the smart remark he'd made a moment ago, then added, "Just remember, though – I'm not of much use outside of combat."

The redhead chuckled. "I beg to differ. I've known quite a few women who said things like that, but they turned out to…" He trailed off, then fixed the forest they had been strolling around the outskirts of with a Look.

Marisa replied with a nod. "How many batches of cake did L'Arachel order to be made for us last night?" _How many?_

Joshua shrugged nonchalantly. "I forgot." _Wait a moment…_. Then, he touched his hand with his chin pensively, (hopefully) using the gesture to hide his roving eyes. "Hm…probably six, since most of us are grown up. Guess she anticipated Ewan's sweet tooth and Ross's appetite. Always wondered why kids loved sweets – any ideas?" _About six. Suggestions?_

"He did say it was, and I quote, 'to _die_ for'." She shook her head in disdain. "Children…" _Kill them._

"Yeah…kids…" The redhead flashed her another grin. Then, he pulled out his blade, Marisa following suit. Both of them sprinted at the forest, weaving zig-zag patterns to avoid being hit by archers. Joshua held his sword in a low, one-handed grip, while Marisa hefted her curved Shamshir to head level with both hands.

The puzzlement as to the words of the two gave way to the realization that it was code talk. Four soldiers emerged to meet them, two being swordmasters (if the flowing robes and Killing Edges were any sign of that), and the other pair being composed of a shield-carrying Hero (Joshua would rather call them Villains) and a helmeted axe-wielder. The glint of armor suspended several feet in the air amongst the trees meant a Warrior was among their ranks as well. If this really was a basic Grado footsoldier platoon, then that meant an archer (or Sniper – the foes' ranks didn't matter as much as their weapons) was also hiding somewhere.

"Berserker first!" called out Joshua. "The axemen will be easier to get rid of! I'll occupy the blades!"

"Understood." Marisa's calm reply was almost lost amid the war cries of the larger men and their footfalls.

The Warrior joined their ranks of his melee comrades with his own axe, but that only registered in the back of Joshua's mind. Hollering something concerning their mothers and sodomy (if only to anger them and therein shake their concentration), he parried the initial stab of the first sword-wielding foe by snatching the hilt of his own blade with his left hand and bringing the weapon up in a powerful yet precise horizontal swing. The strong parry knocked the blade of his foe aside, but the redhead had already spun into a reverse pivot, allowing the momentum from running at his foes to carry him into a spinning follow-up slash almost identical to his first one. His enemy had already recovered from the parry, and blocked the second strike with one hand on the flat of his curved sword. Rotating his forearms to point the tip of his broadsword toward his foe, Joshua thrust diagonally, looking to craft a blade-sized hole in the other man.

Then the gut instinct that had saved him millions of times in the rush of combat flared, and he raked the edge of his sword down his foe's blade, spinning to his left as he shoved aside the blade he was locked with to block the decapitating slash of the other swordmaster. _Damnit! How do you forget that you're fighting two people here? Focus!_ He mentally screamed at himself, even as he followed the momentum of his slash and spun away from being pinned between his two foes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marisa aptly defending herself from the two burly axemen and the shield-carrying soldier, parrying each of their heavy-set strikes and dealing quick, shallow slices to limbs and anything else that exposed itself as the brief half-seconds between assaults allowed. _Well, at least the archer won't get a clear shot in on her_.

Joshua, however, was a different story. Facing considerably quicker swordsmen, he couldn't afford to simply leap into the fray like Marisa. Yet, if he wasn't locked up in combat with both of them simultaneously, the archer would have a clear shot. It left two options – either dance in and out from between the two in order to avoid becoming a pincushion (which would burn him out and kill him quickly), or find the damned archer and kill him (not yet valid, seeing as he didn't know where the archer was).

Speaking of which, another arrow rocketed towards him. He leapt into a tuck-roll, and continued the dance of death with his two partners. Blades flashed, and only minor hits could be scored by both sides. Joshua eventually maneuvered both of them to stand in his field of vision, and got enough breathing room to back away from the pair of assailants, but his brief respite was interrupted a soft whoosh. Instinctively turning his head and swinging his blade, he missed, and instead wound up with an arrow in his right gut. Grimacing in pain and biting back a scream, he turned his head in that direction while backpedaling away from the swordsmen who were trying to press their advantage. Another arrow rushed out, this time a little too far behind Joshua.

That second arrow was the sniper's mistake, as it was that exact point in time that Joshua felt a featherweight in his pants pocket. Instinctively reaching to pull the object out, he hurriedly swatted away another sword slash as he realized what it was…

* * *

_"Huh?" Joshua was reasonably confused by the tiny dagger the green-haired lady offered him. It wasn't as if she knew how to use such things, after all (not to mention she would refuse to wield such 'ruffian' weapons, probably deeming them beneath her)._

_"It seems as if Rennac dropped it while we marched to Darkling Woods. I found it, and have kept it on my person ever since. We were busy at the time, slaying the Demon King and his minions of evil, so I really couldn't have given it to anyone. Dozla has no use for such a minute weapon, and Rennac dismissed it, saying something about having spares as he hurried away. Am I really that grating on his nerves?" Princess L'Arachel of Rausten pondered aloud._

No, your justice shtick and holier-than-thou attitude are worse_, Joshua thought to himself. Not that he would say it aloud – the magician might decide to smite him into dust, and it wasn't as if he could strike her. _That_ would be horrible for international relations – something he'd need to fix Jehanna._

_"Such a knave weapon is beneath me, as I have a great source of holy strength to draw upon. Prince Innes has his bow, and King Ephraim his spear. The soldiers accompanying us do not make use of such tiny blades either. Thus, I offer it to the king of Jehanna, if for nothing more than a gesture of good relations."_

_Joshua narrowed his gaze at the self-important princess. "So, you're too arrogant to use throwing knives, and you're just gonna foist it off on me even though I'm royalty, too?"_

_L'Arachel bristled at being called arrogant. _And here I was, thinking some holy princess would brush off insults as the 'words of an ignorant knave', or something like that_, Joshua idly noted. She hesitated briefly, then said, "Perhaps a boorish way of putting it, but it is similar to as you say it is. So, will you accept my gift or decline it?"_

_The redheaded swordsman grinned. "Why would I ever decline a gift from a pretty lady?"_

_Rather than blush (as most of the other women might have), L'Arachel seemed nonplussed. "Of course! I am the most beautiful woman in all of Rausten, not to mention Magvel!"_

_It was Joshua's turn to look nonplussed at her statement. _Trust_ her _to be narcissistic about it_…_

_"Just give me it already…"_

_

* * *

_

Now, mind you, Joshua wasn't one to have flashbacks and epiphanies in the middle of a battlefield (especially not when a pair of swordsmen were harrying him like they were), but he did remember whom he got it from. _Guess I'll have to tolerate her gloating when I tell her she saved my skin._ Shifting his steel blade into one hand, he switched into a fencing style and held the throwing knife tightly, waiting for an opportunity to try and take out the sniper. "I do love gambling so, after all," he muttered under his breath. He parried one particularly heavy-set slash, managed a quick slice at that foe's arm, and leaped backwards to get space to work with against the second swordsman.

That was when another arrow flew out, from the same spot as before.

Joshua spared just enough attention to heave the knife with pinpoint accuracy. _The hell if I'll ever let Innes know his marksmanship skills are rubbing off on me. I'd never hear the end of it._ Turning his attention back to the fighters in front of him, he heard a distant grunt, and a dull thud marked by rustling leaves.

_Well that tears it. I'm on a roll – today really _is_ my lucky day_. He'd weaseled a duel in the future out of Gerik (and a promise from the mercenary to work with him if Joshua won), promises from Ephraim and Innes to exchange visits to their respective kingdoms (also in the near future, and a nice first step to setting up formal alliances), a walk with Marisa (and with minimal effort to convince her!), _and_ he'd gotten heads on his customary first flip of the day! The only way the day could get any luckier was if his mother was revived (preferably _not_ by a sinister power) and he found a bride! Of course, assuming he and Marisa could cut down the five remaining fighters.

His attention now wholly freed from caution against arrows, Joshua finally had the time and space to deal killing blows. He informed one of the swordsmen of that fact by sweeping a blow while simultaneously flanking him, to get away from the other swordsman. Slashing downward to lodge the other man's blade in the ground, he rapidly circled his foe, dealing lethal slashes into his side and neck. Not pausing to hear the pained grunt or death rattle of his foe, he moved onto his second foe and cut him down even faster. Facing the remaining fighters, the first thing he noticed were the arrow wounds in Marisa's gut and arm. _At least _she_ had the time to pull it out_, the redhead inwardly complained. Joshua pulled out the arrow lodged in him quickly and sprinted to help, screaming at the top of his lungs to catch their attention.

Berserkers were infamous for zoning in on one foe in combat (despite everyone continually warning Dozla not to do so), so he ignored the redhead's loud war cry. Joshua supposed Warriors with lesser discipline did the same (after all, how many equals did Garcia have outside of their group?), as the spike-armored axe-wielder did not respond. The Hero (or Villain, in Joshua's mind), however, turned to face him and readied his own blade in response. The swings of Joshua's foe were far less controlled than his own (though they certainly weren't as wild as his compatriots'), and that made it easy for the redheaded swordmaster to expertly dance about, parry his blows, and sting the other man with cuts to his arms and legs when his slashes weren't blocked by that infuriating shield. Eventually, his foe tried for a powerful leaping overhead slash, but Joshua simply sidestepped the blow and parried the other's blade into the ground in one motion. Caught off guard and sword lodged into the ground by his momentum, he was left wide open.

"Sucker," Joshua muttered. Then, he spun away, and settled into the Phantom Slash stance – the technique myrmidons, assassins and swordmasters all were proficient in.

The mirror images contributed their blades handily, and the scream of the Hero (Villain) was muffled by the whirling sounds of powerful swings creating echoes of wind. The sprays of blood went unnoticed – this was a battlefield, after all, and none of the fighters present could possibly be _that_ green.

The loud slashing sounds, however, drew the attention of the Warrior, who saw his comrade-in-arms being brutally cut down by the rain of deathblows. He moved to try to catch the redheaded swordsman off-guard, but a sensation of cold steel running through his back stopped that train of thought. Scratch that – it stopped all his trains of thought. He slumped forward, and Marisa yanked out her blade to ward away another strike from the berserker. Sweat and blood streaked her pretty features (more the former than the latter, which was a good sign), and the effort she'd expended in constantly dancing to evade the axe men and Hero was taking its toll on her. The exhaustion burning in her bones made every swing and parry harder to aim, and she was slowing, giving openings a more nimble fighter could take advantage. _Joshua, you better help me soon…._

Then she made a mistake. The berserker brought a heavy, one-handed stroke down, and she moved to the side, a half-step slower than normal.

That was when the huge, burly man brought his left hand to choke up the axe and stop the motion. He then twisted it and swung sideways, looking to detach Marisa's head. Though she moved to dodge, she knew she was too late to evade it in her exhausted state.

Then she was abruptly hauled off her feet by a force that wrapped itself around her waist, and she fell onto her left side. The axe now simply swung at thin air. Turning to incredulously glare at her savior, she watched in exhaustion as Joshua scrambled back onto his feet after tackling her out of the axe swipe to stop a pursuing, heavy, downward stroke. Joshua lacked the space to parry or dodge, so he simply brought his sword up to block the axe.

The larger weapon crashed into the blade, and forced it into the redhead's shoulder. After holding itself for just over a second, the sword snapped underneath the weight of the considerably larger weapon. Joshua screamed in pain as the axe, though most of its momentum was lost to his block, lodged itself into his collarbone. That didn't stop him, however, from snatching the handle of the axe with both hands to hold it where it was. His pained demand jolted Marisa back to reality.

"Any time now!" Marisa shot to her feet, fueled by a small second wind. The berserker immediately tried to remove his axe and keep her away, but Joshua's grip held firm long enough for his lavender-haired companion's blade to ring true. She slashed the axeman's side open, then followed with a riposte through the heart. He replied with a pained scream, then a quiet death rattle as his own grip on the axe loosed and he slumped backwards to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

Joshua yanked the axe out of his shoulder and hurled it down, screaming curses the whole while.

"AGGHH! SON OF A MOTHERFUCKING GWYLLGI, I _SO_ DID NOT ENJOY THAT!"

"Do you need to be so loud?" Marisa idly wondered aloud.

"YEAH, WELL I DON'T SEE YOUR DAMNED COLLARBONE SEVERED! SHUT UP!" he snapped in response. Falling to his knees, he grit his teeth in pain and hissed curses upon the dead berserker and the "motherfucking cheap, disease-ridden whore" that was the man's mother.

The Crimson Flash narrowed her eyes. Joshua _never_ got this angry, not even when fighting. She hadn't seen him injured this badly beforehand. _I should not blame him, I suppose…_. Fishing through her supplies, she found out (much to her dismay and chagrin) that her healing supplies had somehow been destroyed. Things like that will happen when you're outnumbered in a fight three-to-one.

Apparently, it's also frequent in two-on-one encounters as well, as Joshua reached for his own potions and cursed again. "Damnit, my elixir bottles…fell out? Shit…we're gonna have to go back and get this healed…" He spent a few moments trying to ignore the pain until he realized that Marisa had fixed him with a look. "What?"

The lavender-haired woman sounded a little hesitant. "…I made a mistake. You were injured because of it."

"Yeah, yeah," Joshua muttered, grimacing as he tried to reflexively wave it off with his right hand. Repeating the gesture with his other arm, he continued, "We're not always perfect, Marisa. Sometimes, you have a bad day."

She continued to glare at him, until he sighed, both in exhaustion and pain.

"Let's get the hell out of here, then. We've probably attracted all sorts of attention…"

* * *

Looking down to the nasty gash in his right shoulder, Joshua frowned and hissed his teeth in pain. _Damnit…maybe I should save these walks until I get back home…_. 

"I'm sorry."

"Hm?" The desert king spun his head to look at Marisa, who seemed to grow more tired by the second. _Either the fight took more out of her than I thought, or there's poison in that guy's arrows…I hope it's the former, even though she'd never accept that possibility…_

"I faltered in a critical moment. I made a rookie mistake. It's my fault you are injured like that." Her voice was puzzlingly soft – sure, she didn't speak loud, but there was always a rigid edge to her words, no matter how slight. _Oh geez, don't tell me she's turning all angsty on me. I get enough of that talking to Knoll, and I almost _never_ do that._

"Sheesh. It's not your fault. You killed the guy who was to blame, so it's all even, hm?"

"I am apologizing here. Are you going to accept it or not?" The Edge came back.

"Ok, ok, I accept your apology. Still, quit blaming yourself. Past is past."

"And if it becomes a permanent injury?" The Edge vanished.

"Hey, Gerik has his share of scars. You think he cares about whether they hinder his performance or not? I'm sure everybody else has some nasty battle trophies. Even Seth has a nasty wound from a while ago – or so Natasha tells me. They don't let it hinder them, and the hell if I will."

Marisa grew quiet, and the two continued to stumble on back. Eventually, she spoke up again. In that disturbingly soft voice that resembled Natasha's far too much.

"Our deal…"

"What about it?"

"I _will_ keep our deal. I shall swear service to your crown, and become the very best swordfighter I can be."

Joshua chuckled despite the cold fire in his shoulder, and grinned. "Nice to hear…" _I know you already would have, but I guess it's nice to just hear it…_

"And perhaps, I'll…compensate for it otherwise…"

"Huh?"

Marisa responded by slumping forward off of his shoulder, falling to the earth face first. Joshua, ignoring the pain in his injured shoulder, reached out and caught her around the stomach and chest, thankfully not touching…_those. She'd brutally dismember me if I ever did that…_Joshua shuddered at the thought.

Gently flipping her over and holding her up, he said aloud, "Jeez, you're out of it…are you sure you can walk the rest of the way?"

"No…" Her reply induced a sigh from Joshua. _It's gonna hurt, and she definitely won't like it, but-_

"But…you could carry me there…"

If anyone knew when a woman was flirting, it was the lady-killing redhead. Marisa did a very coy voice disturbingly well, so it turned out. She also seemed to be a natural at a seductive gaze. _Oh, by the Sacred Stones, that arrow's poison just _had_ to cause delirium! I should have been suspicious when she apologized – guess that was when the poison's effects started to kick in_. Hopefully, she wouldn't remember any of this delirious flirting – it might mean his head if she did.

Now officially weirded out, Joshua grimaced, then sighed once more. "Guess I don't have any choice. If you're that far gone, I'll just have to carry you back…" With a grunt, he collected the purple-haired woman in his arms, noting that she seemed to be completely out of strength – and that she was pretty light. _Great. It'll be torturously painful on my right arm instead of hellishly so._

The look on the inebriated swordswoman's face would have had Tethys green with envy. "My hero," she murmured, apparently ignorant of the fact that he was biting back a scream as he began to jog to Rausten Court.

"Yeah, yeah, let's just get back in a hurry. You're not in much-mmf!"

It was rather understandable that Joshua couldn't talk any more. It happens when someone else's mouth clamps over yours. Distracted by Marisa kissing him, Joshua froze in place, almost as if petrified by a Gorgon (which had not been a pleasant experience – thankfully, that old priest Moulder had ended it swiftly). Feeling something else prodding his lips, the redhead's blood ran cold. _Oh, gods, is that – is that her _TONGUE

Once Marisa pulled away, he shuddered, bit back a scream, then redoubled his pace. _Maybe I should just shut up and enjoy it before she realizes what she's doing and castrates me for not stopping her…

* * *

_

Natasha, Grado cleric, usually retired early so that she could also rise early and help prepare breakfast for the group. Unfortunately, on this particular night, sleep somehow eluded her. And it hadn't taken her long to figure out why.

_Joshua._

That charming redhead, the prince (or was it king?) of Jehanna, had made something in her break when he'd made that joking (or was it?) bet.

_"That you're gonna fall for me, sooner or later."_

Eirika would have been at least somewhat indignant. Lute, Marisa and Vanessa would ignore his words (Marisa being more likely to violently respond if she did, indeed, respond). Syrene would have taken it in stride, like she did so many things. L'Arachel would have called him a perverted knave (or something like that), and would have brushed him off. Tana would have bristled at such a cavalier (not to mention arrogant) approach to love.

In fact, that was exactly what the Frelian princess had done, when she'd found out about it. It'd been shortly after Joshua had made that "bet" with her.

* * *

Finally slowing down after running away from Joshua, the heat in Natasha's cheeks was still near unbearable, and certainly visible. "Oh, by the saints, why do I feel this way? How could he say something like that?" 

"Like what?"

Nearly jumping out of her skin, the nun relaxed visibly upon seeing Tana's curious and concerned expression from atop her winged mount. "Who said what?" the blue-haired young woman repeated, quickly dismounting. "Don't worry – there's only a few stragglers in this swamp," Tana noted, swiveling her head to take in the muddy sights of the Narube River. "I'm not needed, or so Sir Seth said."

"Uh…um…"

"Well? I'm dying of curiosity here! Spill it already!" Now leaning forward in order to look Natasha in the eyes, Tana's eyes shone with anticipation.

"…You see…" Natasha's blush seemed to multiply even further. Slowly, hesitantly, and mostly certainly with absolute embarrassment, she confessed. "Joshua…he made a bet…" Encouraged by the princess' eager nodding, she went on. "…He tried to…he tried to make a bet…that…that I'd…that I'd fall for him…" Finally having said it, the temperature in her face seemed to rise once more. _This can't possibly be healthy_, some analytical portion of her mind idly noted.

Meanwhile, Tana's jaw looked as if it was thrashing to unhinge itself from her face. "He said WHAT!"

"He…he said that I'd fall for him…"

The azure-topped princess half sighed, half grunted in exasperation. "Can you believe the nerve? How can he say something like that? I mean – how can he be that arrogant?"

Natasha lamely offered, "Um…he is the prince of Jehanna…"

"Please! Royalty aren't all like that, Natasha! Like Ephraim! He is _far_ from arrogant! Sure, he might be a little stiff sometimes, reckless other times, and plain dumb still other times, but he doesn't think that highly of himself!"

Out of tact, the blonde cleric refrained from mentioning Tana's egotistical brother, as well as L'Arachel and her self-important attitude (to hear Rennac say it). As it was, Tana conveniently ignored the two in question.

"Eirika is the nicest girl I've ever known! She'd never talk down to anyone, and she'd never even dream of saying anything half as bad as that!"

Natasha grew even quieter, trying to concentrate on forcing down the heat in her cheeks. It was to no avail, as Tana finally noticed it.

"Why are you so red? Are you…?" Then it dawned on her. "Don't tell me…don't tell me that there's any truth to what he said. Please don't."

Natasha simply turned her gaze to the floor in response, still futilely trying to hide her embarrassment.

The princess sighed in response. "By the Stones, I think I've read this in a book somewhere. He's a bad boy; you're a good girl. It sounds exactly like some stupid romance novel!"

"Um…what would that entail?" Natasha inwardly frowned. _Perhaps my lack of exposure to fiction is a bad thing…maybe I should catch up after the war?_

Tana grimaced and sighed. "When you meet him, you see an opposite to everything you've been taught and raised by. It's all in him – in this case, Joshua. He's reckless, he does things you've been taught are taboo – gambling, in his case – and, to top it all off, he's a smooth talker. You get drawn to him out of curiosity, and you somehow become attracted to him. Honestly, I don't understand how that could happen. That kind of person wouldn't be enticing – he'd be repulsive."

Realizing something big, the blue-eyed cleric offered a suggestion. "Before he made that bet, he stepped in between me and an arrow while I was trying to heal Ross. He got injured. He suggested that he should keep an eye out for me while I heal others, but when I protested, I…I think I accidentally…I…how do I say it? …"

"You led him on? You gave him some sign? Of your…um…attraction, I guess?"

Blushing once more, Natasha softly agreed.

"Hm," Tana pensively offered. "He does have his moments, I guess. But still, that's so arrogant."

"So, then, does that mean…"

"…" The Frelian princess sighed in resignation, and replied, "Yeah…I guess it means he's right."

Natasha continued to set new records for blushing in one day.

* * *

"Oh," she softly murmured. Perched on the edge of her bed, she finally realized it. "I…I suppose…I suppose I'm in love with him… 

"…So, is this what love feels like?" _I feel so…I feel as if I need him, as if I need to be near him, to be with him. I feel some desire to help him however I can, and I think…I think I want him to protect me, to help me as well…these desires seem so selfish, and yet the texts in the Temple often spoke of love as selfless. …Is it love?_

Deciding that sleep would continue to elude her for some time, Natasha got up and walked out to the balcony of her room, having enough presence of mind to put her cloak and dress over her nightgown.

The midnight air was only lightly chilled, and a light breeze billowed Natasha's garments as she sauntered out to watch the stars and the nocturne sky. Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly as she attempted to trace patterns in the many twinkling lights hanging leagues above the buildings.

Some time passed, and she eventually cast her gaze towards the ground. Some movement caught her eye, and she narrowed her gaze, trying to figure out who it was. It moved swiftly, in the direction of the castle gates, and carried someone in his or her arms. Soon enough, Natasha realized who it was.

The red hair. The cap.

"Joshua!" she whispered loudly. Bursting back into her room, she flew out the entrance into the hall, and quickly made her way to the castle gates to meet the desert prince.

* * *

"What happened?" she nearly shrieked, Mend staff now in hand, as she finally met up with Joshua. He had a deep gash in his right shoulder, and had as many minor cuts as his cargo. Marisa's purple hair was streaked with sweat and blood (like his was), and she had a pair of what looked like wounds from direct arrow hits to add to her lesser injuries. She seemed very unaware of her surroundings – not a good sign, compared to how rigidly alert she usually was. 

"I went out for a walk, and Marisa happened to be on the way back. She joined me. We got ambushed by a standard Grado footsoldier platoon." Gesturing to the arrow wounds, he continued. "I think those arrows were poisoned. Her delirium from it is really freaking me out, so please hurry and fetch a Restore staff!" the redhead advised her.

"Your wound! It looks horrible! Let me-!"

"The Restore staff first," Joshua suggested. "I didn't have any tools to remove it, and it could be all over inside her. Hurry!"

"Um…all right!" Taking off as fast as she could manage in her turqoise-skyblue robes of a Bishop, she hurried for the massive stock of weapons and staves a few floors up.

Clattering to the floor with a grunt, Joshua allowed the cool tile to ease the heat in his legs and seat. _Oh, man…if they ever found out about this, I'd _never_ live it down_…

Unfortunately, he'd forgotten of Marisa's supreme inebriation, and had also forgotten to set her down.

Which meant that she was now in his lap and arms, inches removed from his face. As always, things got worse – the jolt of collapsing onto the floor seemed to shake her awake. He immediately went rigid and stock still, as if a jolt of Fimbulvetr had frozen the blood in his veins. _Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit-_. His luck failing him once more, her eyes slowly opened, and an inviting smile took shape.

"Hey there, pretty-boy," she softly whispered.

Panicking once more at the normally aloof swordswoman's efforts to seduce him, Joshua's mind began to race in a frantic search for escape. Just running off was out of the question – not only did his arm hurt from the fading of the adrenaline rush (though _that_ discovery was a century or two distant), he was dead tired, and Natasha might not be back for a little while; it would do no good to have her frantically searching for the wounded redhead. Marisa might be too persistent to shrug off, and he _really_ did not want to raise a ruckus if she chose to react otherwise – he would rather die than let anyone in on this freaky side of the purple-haired woman. Pretending to pass out might work, but knowing his luck, it probably wouldn't. _Oh, hell, I should try anyways. It's my best shot._

A surprisingly soft hand reached out and touched his cheek, tracing slow lines around his jaw with its fingers. Once again, all of Joshua's thought processes simultaneously froze up and went into warp speed at Marisa stroking his face with her right hand.

Noticing the tension in his jaw, the lavender-haired woman frowned. "Why do you keep acting like this?" she whispered.

"Huh? Like what?" Replying a little quicker than he would have liked, the redhead cringed inwardly. _I _really_ hope my nervousness isn't leading her on…_

"You keep freezing up whenever I do this…you get so tense." After a thoughtful (well, as thoughtful as one can be while in a state of delirium) pause, she added, "Do you hate me?"

Reflexively, before he knew what he said, Joshua replied, "What? No, just-"

Another coy grin. "Good." Then her hand snared his neck, and pulled his mouth onto hers.

_Oh great, _I_ had to be the one her belated hormones targeted! Where the hell is Gerik when you need him! Stupid, purple-headband wearing mercenaries_, he mentally cursed. The moment she broke the kiss, Joshua heard a stifled gasp. His head shot up, and he saw Natasha holding two staves, looking at him, a mix of stunned and…_horrified_? He didn't blame her – Marisa had never been accused of putting her beauty to use at any time in the past.

Oh, if only he knew...

"The delirium?" he shrieked in explanation. The blonde cleric instantly reacted and dashed forward, focusing the energies in the Restore staff. Before the green glow enveloped Marisa, Joshua knocked the swordswoman out with a strike to the neck, then shuffled away on his hands. Natasha frowned at him, but he quickly explained, "I am _not_ going to explain that to her! I don't want to die!"

The nun's face crinkled in a smile at the panic on Joshua's face, until she saw him cringe again. "Oh dear, your wound is horrible!" she fretted. "I'll get to it as soon as I'm done here!" A little color had returned to Marisa's face, and the glow from the magic panacea faded. Her work with Marisa done, Natasha returned her attention to the redhead she'd silently fallen in love with.

* * *

His breathing finally became relaxed as the Mend staff easily repaired his wounds. "Oh, man…I'm so tired, I could fall asleep right here on the floor," he groaned. 

"Then you'd catch your death of cold," Natasha gently replied. "Let's go. I'll help you carry Marisa to her room."

"Actually, I'll do that."

Both their heads whirled to catch sight of Saleh. The gray-haired sage did not react to their gazes, but simply walked forward, squatted to scoop up the purple-haired woman, and walked off.

"I was up meditating," he explained as he vanished behind the staircase.

Both simply stared after him, until Joshua yawned and shakily rose to his feet. He stumbled, but Natasha was over in a flash, catching him from pitching forward.

She helped him walk, and the trip to his room was uneventful. The redheaded swordsman opened the door and stretched for a while, but did not go in. He paused briefly, then looked at Natasha. The nun returned his gaze, expecting Joshua to say something.

"How did you get there so quickly?"

His question startled Natasha, and she blushed slightly. The desert prince raised an eyebrow, but patiently waited for the response.

"I…happened to be in the neighborhood."

He grunted in acknowledgement, then walked into his room and closed the door. Listening to her somewhat hurried footfalls, he smirked as he realized two things.

"Her room is on the fourth floor. And she almost never has insomnia."

* * *

Finally. 

You can already see the wheels spinning in the drama machine, don't you? Things will definitely get interesting, and fast.

Review, por favor. Point out what you think what could be done better.

I'm not taking pairing requests.


	2. Duty

**_On Epiphanies_**

Oy vey. I'm back.

"speech"

_thoughts / flashbacks / emphasis / etc.

* * *

_

**Chapter 1: Duty**

* * *

"Don't fall asleep, King Joshua. Falling off your horse would be very unbecoming of royalty." 

For what seemed like the millionth time, the redhead waved his hand dismissively in response to the admonishing of the man riding beside him. "Just Joshua. We're both royalty, after all, right? Besides, not only am I the least royal guy you'll ever know" – this, he punctuated with a grin – "I hate formalities. It's why I left Jehanna Hall in the first place."

Ephraim faintly grinned in response. "I know what you mean. I never enjoyed my studies, and I preferred to train my lancework and enjoy the outside world."

His twin sister smiled as well, then added, "We both often grew bored of the formalities, and frequently sneaked out of the castle. I, however, was not the one who jested about abandoning royal duties in favor becoming a mercenary." The newly christened Queen Eirika of Renais fixed her brother with a Look, but everybody knew she was merely jesting.

Ephraim shook his head, his only halfway-groomed turquoise locks flailing about in response. "You know I could never bring myself to abandon you, dear sister." Eyeing Joshua wistfully, he continued, "Perhaps I should envy you. You're the one who actually did that. For ten years, you said?"

Three days had passed since Joshua and Marisa's incident. Yesterday, the group began the long march back home, bidding their farewells to the theocracy of Rausten. Ewan had voiced his displeasure at abandoning the royal delicacies, but his sister and teacher silenced his protests, and the massive company departed without further incident.

In actuality, something _had_ happened. That incident was currently occupying the mind of a Prince Innes of Frelia, a few paces behind his fellow royalty on a steed of his own. Though he was often rigid and stiff-necked, he, too, was susceptible to daydreaming and idle memories…

* * *

_"It is time for us to part ways, my friends. I have my many duties as the princess of Rausten, and you each have yours to your separate kingdoms. The journey was great, and I am pleased to have made so many allies in foreign and high places."_

_"Ha ha ha! Quite elegant, Princess!" _

_"Do you ever shut up?" Rennac idly wondered aloud at the thickly bearded berserker. How Dozla could be so dense as to find L'Arachel tolerable, he'd never figure out._

_"Yes. Thank you, Dozla._

_"Queen Eirika. If it please you, perhaps you would join my tea club? I hope you would agree to this – and you too, Princess Tana." The two women smiled, looked at each other, and nodded in unison._

_"King Ephraim." The turquoise-topped man nodded once in response. "I realize much distance separates our lands, but perhaps we could…" She hesitated, then looked at the gray-haired archer standing at the other end of the throne room, arms folded in miffed impatience. "Forgive me. Pay it no mind."_

_The king of Renais frowned, but replied, "So be it. Fare thee well, then, Princess L'Arachel, Pontifex Mansel of Rausten. I hope we will meet again soon." Bowing deeply, he turned and exited the room._

_His twin curtsied, and replied, "I imagine keeping correspondence shall be quite a challenge. But let's keep in touch, L'Arachel. We shall have to arrange to hold our tea meetings at the same time. Perhaps halfway between noon and sunset?"_

_"An excellent idea, Queen Eirika. I look forward to it." The pair shared smiles, then Eirika hurried to catch up to her brother._

_Joshua sauntered up easily, then smirked and said, "You know something, Princess? That dagger you gave me a week back saved me when Marisa and I were ambushed two days ago. I guess I owe you."_

_"Debts and ledgers are of no concern to the princess of Rausten," the green-haired royalty replied, but her smile did not mask her smug satisfaction. _I suppose I'll feel it in the shorts if I have to deal with Rausten in the futur_e, the king of Jehanna mentally noted to himself. He returned her smirk, then spun on his heels and walked off._

_As the rest of the company began to depart, Innes clambered up the steps, and stopped directly in front of L'Arachel._

_"So."_

_"So." She returned his sharp gaze evenly, staring back into the seasoned archer's gaze with all the confidence her office and histrionic tendencies gave her._

_"I suppose we part ways now."_

_"But not for long," she replied. "Soon, you and I will exchange visits to our respective kingdoms, and we'll get King Ephraim and Queen Eirika to judge which of our lands is greater." She smiled confidently, then added, "I'm sure you'll appreciate the beautiful sights Rausten has to offer."_

_"And I'm sure you will enjoy your visit to Frelia," Innes responded. The pair grew silent, but stood firm, not turning their gazes away from each other._

_"Hey! Are you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna kiss her already?" The distinctively cheeky voice rang across the hall from the doorway._

_"I do not recall asking for commentary, King Joshua," the archer shouted in response. "Continue readying the caravans – I'll be out soon enough."_

_"Maybe we should delay the trip. Give the two lovers another night to spend together. How's that sound, King Ephraim?" Joshua shouted out to the walls, presumably where the group was gathering._

_"We need to return to our homes, King Joshua. We all have much to do," came Ephraim's loud and clear response. "Tell them as much as I would have it otherwise, their romance must wait." The humored tone in his rival's voice made Innes sniff in disdain._

_L'Arachel smiled. "Pay them no mind."_

_"I did not plan to," the gray-haired prince replied. Again, they continued to simply leer at each other._

_Until L'Arachel snared two fistfuls of his tunic and yanked him into a frenzied kiss. Innes' eyes flew open, and he flailed his arms for balance before spinning her around and pinning her against the pillar behind him. Pulling back and breaking the kiss, he ignored Rennac's baffled stuttering of "What the hell?" and Dozla's amused laughter, simply staring at her. Unable to contain his smirk, Innes let it out and said, "Not in a throne room."_

_"We must continue this at a later date," the lime-haired princess stiffly offered._

_"A holy woman, asking to resume such things? How unbecoming," Innes dryly retorted._

_L'Arachel darkly glared at him in response, but could not hold it. Her scowl eventually gave way to a soft smile, and as Innes turned to leave, she called out, "Do not forget to visit."_

_"Take care that you not forget to visit," Innes countered as he turned to look upon the princess of Rausten once more. He offered another smirk in parting, and turned back to leave._

_"Ooh…" Joshua snickered upon seeing the Frelian prince walk out with all the signs he'd expected – suspicious wrinkles in his tunic, a grin that refused to hide itself despite Innes' best efforts, somewhat ruffled hair and suspiciously wet lips. "Too bad we didn't stay long enough for you to do _something_ to her, huh?"_

_"King Joshua?"_

_"Hm?" The redhead's grin threatened to split his face in two._

_"Shut up."

* * *

_"…well, I guess in retrospect, it's a good thing I've got a soft spot for pretty ladies. Seth sticking a lance into my heart doesn't sound very appealing as far as deaths go. I guess it's also good that I had bad luck that day. All my coin tosses were tails – including the one I had with Natasha."

Eirika shook her head in disbelief. "How do you do things like that, Ki – er…Joshua? Change allegiances at the flip of a coin? Natasha once told me of how you came to our side. And if I recall correctly, that's why you accompanied me to Jehanna, even though I asked you to go with my brother…"

Ephraim tilted his head slightly upon hearing that. "I haven't thanked you yet for that, have I? You have my gratitude for keeping my sister safe, Joshua."

Joshua's grin ruined any nonchalance his shrug might have otherwise had. "Heh…that's part of my charm, that's all. Which reminds me…on that day, Eirika? I cheated."

The teal-haired princess narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What?"

Joshua would have responded, but when he idly turned his head around and saw the blank look on Innes' face, he grinned, and waved his hand to try to catch the gray-haired prince's attention.

"Hey! Ya there? What's with people always going blank around me?"

Innes blinked once, then twice, then turned his gaze to Joshua. "Ah. Apologies, King Joshua. I was…thinking," he explained.

"Yeah, you really _did_ get lost. Just Joshua, alright?" Eyeing the Frelian prince suspiciously, he probed with, "What were you thinking about?"

Innes refused to grace the redhead's question with a response.

"Ohhhh! I know what you were thinking about! It was L'Arachel, wasn't it?" Joshua teased. "See, Ephraim? I told you we shoulda stayed longer. At this rate, he'll pine away to nothing before we see her again!" Unable to contain his amusement, the king of Jehanna clutched his sides and burst out laughing.

"King Joshua?" the archer interrupted.

"Ha ha ha – Hm?"

"Shut up."

"Prince Innes, you know he only means it in jest," said Eirika. "And what did you mean when you said you cheated, Joshua?"

"He can turn the coin over in his palm very discreetly," Innes explained. "It's how he cheated me out of a few thousand gold. Of course, that's pocket change for the prince of Frelia, but still…"

"You lost, sucker," Joshua countered. "That's how it happened, hm? Shouldn't the prince of Frelia know better than to challenge the champion of another domain?"

"How is Jehanna going to trust a king who cheats over such petty manners?" Innes snapped in response.

"Hey, don't worry, friend," the redhead replied. "I keep my word, and I do things right. I can just say that it means I'll wring hands, sidestep rules, and throw out traditions in order to get things done."

Eirika sighed in resignment – again. _Why is it that I do this frequently in Joshua's presence?_ "So, you cheated to go with me to Port Kiris?"

"Pfft…figured your brother would want _someone_ to keep an eye on you, ya know? I did pull your fat out of the fire a few times on the way to Jehanna," Joshua reasoned.

"And I you," the queen of Renais retorted.

"The whole is greater than the sum of its parts, eh?"

"I suppose. But you cheated me when I asked you to go! That's not fair, Joshua!"

"Hey, all's fair in love and war, right? Your brother wouldn'ta been very happy to find out you'd gotten hurt, after all. Figured I'd do some diplomacy for the post-war times," the redhead explained. Then, he smirked and added, "Right under all your noses, no less."

Ephraim chuckled aloud. "I suppose there is more than meets the eye when it comes to the king of Jehanna. I can only hope we can bond with your nation as well as we have with Frelia."

"Hey, if I dropped this rogue-go-lucky demeanor, I woulda never kept my cover over that decade of merc work. Acting all high-and-mighty like Innes here-"

"I don't think I-" Innes interjected.

"…woulda given it away. I'd have to deal with toadies and blustery dimwits who wanted to pick a fight – two reasons I left home to begin with."

"A fight?" Ephraim inquired. "You were the prince of Jehanna. Why would you have to worry about people who wanted to fight with you before you ever left? Yes, every country has its insurrectionists and coup d'etat plots, but why would you even learn of people who wanted to publicly pick a fight, much less deal with them?"

"Hey, Jehanna's home to some legendary mercenaries – Gerik's one of 'em, Marisa and her father, too. Royalty wouldn't pamper their kids, not when their lives would wind up hinging on their combat skills and physical ability. The desert's a tough place – that was one of the first things I remember my father and Carlyle teaching me." Joshua paused, then inquired, "What, you envy that?"

The king of Renais quirked an eyebrow in response. "How can you change from seemingly so zestful to so perceptive this quickly?"

Joshua bemusedly chuckled. "It's how I keep life interesting. I like to think of life as a gamble, so I try to change the game and turn the tables as I think it necessary. That's one of the lessons I learned in my ten-year absence from Jehanna's throne – the way to live a little is to make life unpredictable."

"Wise words indeed, Joshua," Ephraim complimented the redhead. "And yes, the prospect of testing my skills always has excited me. Perhaps you and I should spar?"

"Tch. Don't you have an unfair advantage?" Joshua quipped.

"Shouldn't you be skilled enough to overcome it?" the turqoise-haired lanceman replied.

"Yeah, I probably am." The desert king shrugged, wearing a friendly grin as he added, "But fighting over that disadvantage is something I'd rather not do."

"FORDE!"

The loud shout spun the heads of the four royalty present (Tana was busy trying to convince Cormag to join Frelia's knights after Grado's reconstruction), and they saw the familiar red armor of the infamous Wild Knight slouched against his horse suspiciously.

"Hm? Wha?" Forde groggily rose from his nap to face the source of the noise, rubbing his eyes with a gloved hand.

"What in the name of heaven are you doing falling asleep on a march!" Kyle shouted. Ephraim cringed, already visualizing veins bulging on the forehead of the green-haired knight.

"Oh, c'mon. This is the most uneventful march we've been on in forever," the sandy-blonde sleepily countered. "Grado's army is in shambles, the Demon King's death means no more monster ambushes, and I'm sleepy! Go away." Joshua grinned, sympathizing with the paladin's desire for some shuteye. _Anything to forget that…_he involuntarily shuddered at the memory of his escapade with Marisa days back.

Kyle sighed in irritated resignation. "Where's your sense of duty? We as Knights of Renais need to be ready to serve and protect our King and Queen at a moment's notice! I know that you know this, Forde. We're not home yet, so show some responsibility!"

Forde yawned before countering with, "You need to quit being so stuffy. I do not understand how you plan to get a woman being so uptight – I've already gone over this, haven't I?"

"Stuffy? I am right – it's your duty to be ready to serve, so do it!" The green-haired knight paused briefly, then idly muttered, "Syrene once used the same word…"

"See? Even your lady friend says-"

"She's not my-"

"Don't even try to deny it! I've seen the way you look at her, how you act around her." Forde grinned mischievously, then continued, "The only reason you and she haven't made any noise is because you're much too by-the-book to go show her how much you-"

"Forde! That's enough!"

But the damage had been done. Laughter burst out from the knights riding among the bickering pair, and even Seth, who rode at the head of the cavaliers, cracked a small smile. Joshua chuckled, Ephraim smiled, Eirika failed to stifle her giggles, and Innes sighed and rolled his eyes at the spectacle.

"_Where_ is the decorum?"

Joshua snorted and quipped in response, "Hey, I'm pretty sure that discipline was the last thing on _your_ mind when-"

"Shut up," snapped the gray-haired archer.

"Hey, why get so irate about it? Your choice isn't so bad – I can only imagine what kind of pent-up sexual-"

"I said-"

"-frustration L'Arachel has from all those years of 'holy work'." The desert king tilted his head pensively, and raised a finger in realization. "Now I know why you two are all over each other like that! Hm…"

The Frelian prince's scowl only furthered the laughter of his friends and the pinkish stain to his cheeks.

* * *

"Oi! Ephraim, where'd ya run off to?" 

The sun burned overhead with a tired hue of yellow, and already it began to retire behind the mountains, signaling the cue for the massive army headed by the royalty of three nations to set up camp for the night. The sunset was an attractive amalgam of orange and red hues that looked like one of Forde's paintings – and, in all likelihood, the lazy cavalier was capturing the sunset on another work of his.

Only five minutes ago had Joshua began his search for his fellow king. Humongous as the camp was, it was natural that he hadn't found Ephraim yet. The king of Renais was absent from the section of the camp set aside for the royalty, and Joshua had discovered that when he'd peeked into the twins' tent and found nothing. Well…actually, he'd found Eirika in a nightgown, combing snarls out of her hair in a full-length mirror, but he'd closed the flap and walked off before he was ever detected – he was beyond peeping, as he'd already reached levels well past that. Several times. And Eirika, pretty as she was, had little to grab onto (as Caellach might have said).

He was briskly walking to the cavaliers' section when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Spinning round, he saw the viridian hair and worn combat vest of Gerik. Joshua flashed a smile in response and asked, "Whatcha need? I'm a touch busy, but I can spare time."

"Good to hear. What say I take you up on that offer, King Joshua?"

"Just Joshua. Talk to me like you never knew I was Jehanna's prince." Another grin full of white teeth.

"Joshua, then. A ways back, you said something about a well-paying job. I'd be right if I guessed it had something to do with your royal duties?" The way the mercenary looked at the redhead showed he already knew the answer, but Joshua replied nonetheless.

"Yup. I was gonna offer you a post as a general and advisor of mine, but that's your choice. There's probably a bit more paperwork and pomp involved in that job than you might like, just so you know. If I'm right, we're kindred spirits, and neither of us would like being trapped in stuffy ol' Jehanna Hall all the time. I mean, you might not complain, but-"

Gerik chuckled, and interjected with, "Well, I'm letting you know that I'm considering that offer seriously. I'll talk to some of the company and get their ideas about it. I know you wouldn't mind bolstering your army some, right?"

"Hey, help is always welcome," Joshua replied. "Besides, I already roped Marisa into tagging along, so I definitely think you'll enjoy taking me up on my offer."

"Marisa? How'd you convince her?" Gerik frowned. _She would definitely have mentioned something _that _big…_

"I made a wager of a spar, saying that the loser owed the winner a favor. Beat her. I asked her, to a word, to be my 'partner for a while'."

Okay. That_ was definitely something Marisa should have mentioned._ "Partner?" the Desert Tiger skeptically repeated.

The desert king chuckled. "Don't worry – I'm smart enough to not go after cold fish. For training and maybe the occasional night out, that's all. She eventually interpreted it to mean service to my crown, and that's fine by me. 'Sides, I know her eyes are for you, so I'd rather not try."

"Huh?"

"Oh, c'mon. I saw you trying to apologize to her. She never gets that flustered around anyone else."

Oh. _Oh._ "Sneaky, aren't you, Joshua? Yeah, I guess I shouldn'ta laughed at her trying to be more social. That's something I'm gonna need to fix over time."

"_We_, silly. Or have you already forgotten? I'm going to beat you in a duel, and you're going to join me and her in ruling Jehanna."

Gerik laughed once more. "Confident, are we?"

"I am a king, after all. Which reminds me, I need to find King Ephraim. Keep an eye out, will ya?"

"Sure. How much you gonna pay me for it?"

The redhead chuckled. "The price? The right to call me your friend."

The two swordsmen shared a good laugh as they parted ways.

* * *

Perched atop a rocky outcropping, Ephraim was seated at the edge of a small canyon, idly kicking his legs as he gazed into the sunset. 

_"We…three. Lyon used to be with us, didn't he?"_

Not in a mood to delude himself, Ephraim admitted that it hadn't been pleasant to watch his friend die from the lance wounds he'd stricken him with. Siegmund, true to its title of a Sacred Twin, always found its mark, after all.

Demon King be damned, Ephraim had killed his own _friend_. The same man who would put the baffling and lengthy history texts into lucid words for him. The same man who'd enjoyed so many good times and so much jesting with him and Eirika. The same man who simply wanted to bring happiness and peace to everybody. Ironic, that such a pure desire wound up killing him and so many others.

"No." The aqua-haired king shook his head. "Lyon would not want me to be sad. He'd want me to pick up the pieces and keep on living. He'd want me to be happy." Rising from his introspection, he gathered the iron lance he'd taken along for self-defense, and sighed.

"Just watch, Lyon. I'll fulfill your dream for you. I'll do what you couldn't. And I'll live happily, like you would want me to."

Ephraim grew silent, absorbed in thought as he gazed out over the plains from his tall vantage point.

Some time later, he vaguely felt a presence behind him, and he turned to face it. Greeted by Joshua's disarming grin, he relaxed, and returned the smile with his own. "What is it, Joshua?"

"Good. You remembered that I don't like formalities."

"Neither do I, friend. What do you need?"

"What say we spar? The loser owes the winner a favor."

Ephraim shook his head. "No need for a duel, Joshua. Just ask, and I will do what I can."

"Ya sure? I thought you woulda liked to spar with me…"

Ephraim paused, then eventually replied, "…I don't think I'm in the mood to spar now. Another day."

"Gee, you're awfully pensive. What's got you so out of it?"

"…"

The redhead frowned, and repeated, "Come on, Ephraim. I am your friend, right? Spill it – the way you look, confession might do ya some good."

"…I…I was, er, thinking of Lyon."

A comprehending smile found its way onto the desert king's face. "It's not your fault, if that's what you're so antsy over. The Demon King destroyed him, and you settled the score. Easy. If I read right, he wouldn't want you to bother yourself with false guilt. I know I wouldn't want a friend to worry about something he was helpless against."

Ephraim raised an eyebrow. "You killed a friend of yours as well?"

"Yeah. It was Caellach. He was that axe-wielding general we took care of at Jehanna."

Ephraim narrowed his gaze incredulously. "Him? Wow...you feel no remorse over it?"

"Well, he _did_ kill my mother. And he burned down Jehanna Hall." Joshua sighed, then ran a hand through his red locks. "We were mercenaries – sure, we shared good times and worked together real well, but we didn't get _that_ attached to each other. We knew better – death could come from anywhere for a mercenary."

"You killed him for vengeance, then?"

The swordsman shook his head. "No. Grudges get in the way of work – I told him the same, word for word. He posed a serious threat to the security of Magvel – not on the same level of the Demon King, obviously, but he had to die sooner or later if reconstruction was ever going to happen. And I never did like waiting for extra chances – it was best to finish it, then and there. That, and he always did have a big head."

Ephraim chuckled bitterly. "So you killing him differs too greatly from me killing Lyon?"

Joshua offered a small smile in response. "Yep, definitely. You didn't kill Lyon. And while I might not know what it feels like, that doesn't mean I can't offer my sympathies, right?"

The turqoise-topped king replied with a small smile and, "No, it doesn't. I appreciate you listening to me, Joshua. Thank you."

He shrugged nonchalantly in response. "Hey, friends, right?"

* * *

As the pair made it back to the camp, Ephraim suddenly recalled Joshua's earlier offer. 

"You said you needed a favor from me?"

"Hm? Oh. Yeah, I did."

"Ask, and I will do what I can."

Not breaking stride, Joshua reached a hand to his chin pensively, quietly muttering, "How can I say this…" Blinking and returning his gaze to his fellow king, at length, he said, "I'd like you to give me the right to…" he wrinkled his nose, sighed, then continued, "court your sister."

"What?" Ephraim halted, narrowing his eyes in bewilderment. _Why would he…?_

"Why would I? Thought you might ask." Ticking off reasons on his fingers, he explained, "We're friends, sure, but making a concrete, er…bond? Yeah, bond…will be better for the minds of the people – Grado and Renais were allies, too, so just friendship won't be enough to ease international tensions. Innes already has dibs on L'Arachel" – Joshua paused to grin with Ephraim – "and I wouldn't have went after her anyways. Frelia is too distant, and Innes would turn me into a pincushion if I tried to approach his sister like that." The pair shared another laugh. "Grado has no royalty to speak of anymore, and I figure a king's marriage invariably needs some political implication. That, and your sister _is_ pretty."

Ephraim evenly replied, "I would know. I'm her twin brother." Fixing Joshua with a serious gaze, he continued, "But are you sure of this? I was always taught that marriage was meant to be for love – that's why my father chose my mother, so Father said. I can sympathize with a sense of duty, and I realize a king must make some measure of sacrifice for his people, but…shouldn't your own desires fit into this somewhere? What of your happiness?"

The redhead shrugged. "What of it?"

Ephraim narrowed his eyes. "I'm being serious here, Joshua. What would motivate you to choose my sister? Should you truly allow politics and duty to play such a role in a decision like this?"

"You're trying to scare me away, aren't you?" Any venom to the redhead's accusing retort was ruined by his goofy grin.

The king of Renais chuckled, but quashed his mirth quickly with a frown and continued, "I mean it. I advise you not to force this, Joshua. I won't stand idly by and watch my friend and my sister get into a loveless marriage – if I know her, Eirika would allow her sense of duty to push her into this against her own desires."

Joshua lifted an eyebrow in response. "You're worried about _that_?" Waving his hand dismissively, he countered, "Don't worry – you leave that to me, Ephraim. I never intended to force the marriage onto her – I'm not as foolish as I let on."

Ephraim smiled. "I know."

The two kings spotted the camp ahead, and Joshua waved to catch the attention of the mercenaries under Gerik's command. "Let her know about my intention to court her. I'll take care of the rest. You can trust me that much, right?"

"Should I not?" The turquoise-topped man joked in response.

A multitude of soldiers were baffled by the grins of the kingly pair making their way to the royalty tents.

* * *

"What?" Were she a less soft-spoken soul, Eirika would have shrieked that word. 

Ephraim shook his head. "I was just as surprised as you are, sister. He explained that of foreign royalty, you are the remaining option, and that he feels obligated to make political use of his marriage. He also told me that he'd take care of everything else. All I am to do is inform you of his intentions."

Sitting onto her (very) fluffy sleeping bag, Eirika held a hand to her heart and lowered her gaze as she inquired, "Why me? I once remember Tana telling me that King Joshua seemed interested in that Grado cleric, Natasha. Why would he abandon that and decide to court me because he feels his royal office calls for it?"

Her twin brother shrugged. "I am as confused as you are. He simply says to trust in him to work everything out." He rose to his feet from the chair in front of the mirror, and explained, "I'm going to go check with Seth on a few things. I'll be back soon, sister."

With that, he lifted the flap and walked out of the room, leaving Eirika to ponder over that tidbit of baffling news.

A few minutes later, somebody called from outside the tent, "Hey, ya in there, Princess Eirika? You decent?"

Roused from her thoughts, she stood up and examined herself briefly. Her nightgown _did_ show a bit much…. She pulled the cape from her combat outfit and draped it over her shoulders. "Who is it?"

"Joshua."

She started in surprise, but collected herself and said, "Come in, milord."

As the redhead opened the tent flap and pulled it back behind him, he replied, "Tch. Just Joshua, alright? It puts me at ease."

"Very well then, Joshua. Sit if you please."

He shook his head. "Nah." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he idly stretched his neck and yawned.

"Do you need something, Joshua?"

He tilted his head in response. "Actually, I do. You up for a wager?"

Eirika frowned. "You won't cheat again, will you?"

Joshua chuckled lightly. "I might. Ephraim relayed my message to you?"

"Ah…y-yes." She paused, then softly asked, "Why would you choose to wed me for those reasons? What of love?"

"Speaking of love, I'm going to bet that you're going to confess your love to me within, say, the next six months."

"What!" Eirika shrieked, completely taken off balance by his offer.

The redhead grinned. "I'll bet my right to court you. How's that sound? You in?"

The cerulean-haired queen frowned. _That means if I do not fall in love with him, he will give up and not marry me. He's giving me the right to consent to this marriage, and he means to make our matrimony authentic. He doesn't want to force anything…how thoughtful._

"Hey, don't frown like that. You're too pretty to be messing up your face frowning."

She blinked, startled by his comment, and blushed. Perhaps too quickly, she replied, "Quite cunning, Joshua. Your planning is very thorough."

"Yeah, yeah. So, are you in or what?"

Eirika sighed, then nodded. "I accept your terms." She paused, then continued, "But you did not answer my question. What of you? You say that you will not wed me until I am in love with you, but what of your love? Should you not consider your own happiness before you make these decisions?"

Joshua's jaw jumped, but he changed the subject. "Hey, you have to wager something, too. What is it?"

"You're not weaseling out of this, Joshua. If you don't want to-"

"Eirika, I'm-. Oh. Hello, Joshua."

"Hey," the redhead replied, still fixing his gaze on Ephraim's twin. "Go ahead and tell him about it," he suggested to her as he turned around and exited the twins' tent, poking his hat with his thumb and nodding at Ephraim in greeting.

Ephraim idly watched Joshua leave, then turned back to Eirika and inquired, "What did he come here for?"

His sister simply stared at the exit of the tent, inattentive.

"Sister?"

"Hm? Oh…um, you see…"

* * *

Now back in his own tent, Joshua stretched wide and yawned once more. Shedding his jacket and hat, he flopped onto his cot and shut his eyes. 

_"Should you truly allow politics and duty to play such a role in a decision like this?"_

_"…what of your love?"_

Sighing, he began to ponder the twins' comments. _I've got a duty to do. I ditched Jehanna for ten years, and I'll make it up by doing a damned good job. …but I suppose they've got a point. I'll find my happiness. I know what I enjoy._ The redhead grinned, already amused by how the elders, advisors and nobility would react to him leaving the Hall on a regular basis and gambling away chunks of the royal treasury.

Still, there was much more to his future than just irritating the wrinkly old bags who would try to nag him into becoming one of them. He frowned, and worked his jaw pensively as he continued mulling over their words. _But, indeed, what of love? Do I go through with my plan, or should I take Ephraim's advice and marry for love? Even if I do, who would I marry for…love…. …Son of a…._

Natasha. He _had_ made that bet with her, that she'd fall for him. _Unbelievable. Brilliant, Joshua – you got a woman to fall for you when you're trying to go after another one. Just fucking brilliant._

Cursing under his breath, Joshua shut his eyes and sighed deeply. _Smooth, Your Highness. How the hell are you gonna solve this? Duty, or love? Shit, do you even love her? Either of them?_ Another aggravated sigh escaped the redhead's lips.

It wouldn't be the last one for that night.

* * *

There. How's that for an unexpected pairing? 

Listening to how Joshua speaks of his experiences in the outside world, as well as how he speaks of his upcoming role as the king of Jehanna, it's easy to deduce that he carries the same sense of duty as Ephraim. Both have their passions (Ephraim his spear, Joshua his luck), both are reckless, and neither have a personality that could stand to be cooped up inside a castle. As far I see it, the only difference between Ephraim and Joshua is Eirika – not only the fact that he has a sibling, but her effect on him. Ephraim, despite his mention of wanting to become a mercenary, would not dare abandon Eirika to do that. Joshua, not tied down by any such personal obligation, did so. And as far as parents go: to be honest, Ismaire and Fado would probably be so busy with their duties, they would not be the kind of consistent presence that a sibling would be. Besides, having gentle Eirika for a sister would make Ephraim more inhibited. Nobody would affect Joshua like that during his childhood in Jehanna, and living in a desert nation is harsher anyways. Because I see little difference between Ephraim and Joshua outside of their upbringing (which can influence but never dramatically change a personality), I believe they would get along well. Besides, they're both my favorite characters.

As for Joshua going after Eirika, it is for the reasons I listed. Though our favorite gambler certainly won't welcome death with open arms like Knoll over his mother's death, he's certainly going to feel somewhat guilty over not being there to help her. He knows that he owes it to his mother to do a good job of ruling Jehanna, and establishing an alliance via a marriage is certainly a means to that end. Don't worry, though – Joshua will figure out what he really wants and what Ismaire would want for him. It's just a matter of time – happiness was meant to be pursued and hunted, not stumbled upon.

Reviewer responses:

**Tenshi no ai:** Thanks for the ego boost, but I would prefer it if you'd evaluate my writing style and characterization.

**Phantom Kensai:** Marisa can speak for more than ten words, believe it or not. The longest she speaks is in her B support conversation with Joshua, no less.

**Raedyn-l**: What? Did you think I was just gonna give you the Natasha/Joshua? Think about it, and you'll see why I chose Eirika. Besides, romantic confusion and duty vs. love is one thing I've always wanted to write. Cliché? Certainly, but I had to give it a spin.

* * *

_Preview of next chapter:_

**Reminisce: Part A  
**

"Aaaand..." He flipped the coin high, then snatched it out of the air and held his closed fist before his face.

"What is it?"

He opened his fist, and showed her the result.

Tails.

She frowned, then looked up into his eyes, a hint of desperate pleading beneath those deep sapphire orbs. "Please, Sir Joshua, my brother is-"

"Are you trying to worm out of a bet, milady?" She blinked in surprise, and looked at him inquisitively.

"'Cause if you are, we might need to settle this over a duel."


	3. Reminisce: Part A

On Epiphanies 

Oy vey. I'm back.

"speech"

_thoughts / flashbacks / emphasis / etc._

_

* * *

_

**Reminisce: Part A**

**

* * *

**

Flopping onto the chilly grass, Joshua let out a massive yawn. The motley crew traveling with Princess Eirika had finally set up camp near the village where their misadventure concerning man-eating spiders, villagers taken hostage, and some dumbass shaman who thought Artur was a pushover had happened. Oh, sure, you could guilt or force him into doing anything, but when push came to shove, panfrying people with his Lightning spells was second nature to the otherwise benevolent monk.

_I still can't believe I'm doing this…_. What kind of princess traveled with such bizarre company? A roseate crybaby, some uppity little kid who dressed in rags, and that weirdo…Lute, was it? Sure, Joshua might not be the perfect depiction of royalty himself, now a mercenary of ten years, but his story never suspiciously resembled those outlandish fiction novels read to him as a young child.

Leaning his head back, the redhead smirked at the large shining orb in the sky. "A full moon…" Pulling a coin from his pocket, he flipped and caught it. "Tails…figures. So much for good luck from the full moon." Shrugging nonchalantly, he stuffed the coin back in his pocket, and addressed a piercing and wholly unsubtle gaze directed at him.

That Ross kid. Didn't look any older than mid-teens. The son of Garcia – who, if he remembered his history right, was some axeman of supreme skill who once was a higher-up in Renais' military. Sure looked like a kid – leather headband, gruffly groomed dark-brown hair, shorts (always a surest sign of lack of age), full of the kind of confidence that ignorance of the world tends to beget. Returning the boy's glare with a sidelong glance, he lazily inquired, "What is it, kid?"

"You were one of the Grado mercenaries at Serafew, weren't you?"

"_Were_. Go thank that Natasha cleric for that. I probably should, too – some of these guys woulda stuck a lance into my ass, which is hardly how I'd like to go out." _Yes, die ignobly out in some damned border town, leaving your mother to wonder what the hell happened to you without any idea that you're burning in hell. A brilliant idea_, he mentally tacked on. Thankfully, he hadn't told anybody about this reason for his defection – his royal heritage was nothing worth mentioning since it certainly wouldn't be worth the hassle it would raise (if they even believed him in the first place – after all, what the hell kind of prince of Jehanna changes allegiances at the flip of a coin?).

"Yeah, well I still don't trust you."

Joshua shrugged. "I've heard worse. Mercenaries get this kind of thing."

"Well, just remember that I'm keeping an eye on you, so don't try anything funny!"

"Ross!" The voice was distant, but still rang clearly with all the authority of warrior with as much legend to him as Garcia.

"Dad!" The boy spun and faced his father.

"What are you accosting Sir Joshua for, my son?"

Pointing a finger accusingly at the swordsman, he began, "He's a mercenary! He can't be trusted! He'll sell us out when things turn ugly, which is always how things are in this journey! I can practically-"

"Son."

"Dad?" Ross instantly stopped at the muted but stern tone to his father's voice.

"Turn in for the night. Get your rest."

"But-"

"Now."

Never one to disobey his father, Ross nodded and hurried off. The older rendition watched his son leave, then commented to the lazing redhead, "Forgive my son. He can be…impetuous, at times."

The redhead shrugged. "Kids. What can ya do?" He knew better than to take Ross seriously – he _had _been the more levelheaded between Caellach and himself, after all.

"Indeed." The larger man turned his gaze to Joshua, and began, "I am Garcia."

"Yeah. General Seth tells me you used to be a legend in Renais." _Actually, in all of Magvel, but I'd rather stay in my role as the everyday mercenary and not know my history._

The aging fighter sighed, running a hand through his still-short hair – perhaps he never rid himself of a strictly military fashion after all these years. "I was. Age separates me from my former skill, but I believe my old bones are still capable enough to serve Her Highness."

"Heh. Watching how you cut down one of those armored knights, I'm pretty sure that if you're nowhere near your former ability, you must have been something else in your prime."

"I was." Garcia's eyes narrowed, and a lesser man would have flinched under his gaze. Stroking his beard pensively, he asked, at length, "You're not just some ordinary sellsword, are you?" _You aren't,_ he silently added. _I merely want the truth from your mouth._

Joshua canted his head to the side. "I'm pretty sure you're not referring to my gambling obsession, right?"

The old legend chuckled and replied, "Although I recall few soldiers who ever enjoyed games of chance as you do, that is not so. There is something in the way you walk, the way you wield your blade. I see something in your eyes that I have seen in so very few others. The others in this group find nothing amiss, but I have seen far too much to not find something salient in your conduct." _In King Fado. In those foreign royalty I occasionally met. In Emperor Vigarde, too. It's hidden underneath the roguish swagger, but I see it._

It was the redhead's turn to laugh. "The legend is perceptive _and_ fearsome. Too bad they never endorsed your sagacious talents."

"Pity, though anybody with my experiences is invariably wizened. Perhaps they assumed it to be a given." Erasing the mirth from his face once more, Garcia asked, "Who are you?" _What is royalty doing out here?_

The redhead shrugged, hoping that he appeared nonchalant about the inquiry. _He's close, but best to not let him know _how_ close._ "Joshua. From Jehanna. A mercenary long in the running – 'bout ten years now, I think."

The way Garcia wrinkled his nose hinted at his belief that the redhead hid something, but he dismissed it. "Perhaps I was mistaken in assuming something incredible to your identity." Turning his gaze back to the village they were spending the night at, the aging axeman suggested, "What say we get a good night's rest, Sir Joshua? I sense that we will need to embroil ourselves in a tough fight soon."

"Hey, you're the legend. I just got roped into this by my own bet."

Royal heir and old legend shared a grin.

* * *

Sauntering steadily through the lush collection of pretty flora within the Royal Garden of the Rausten Court, Joshua took in all the sights at a steady and leisurely pace, slowly losing himself in thought. 

_I__'ll be very busy once I get back to Jehanna – a lot repairing to do. Frelia is too far away to really ask for help, and Renais and Grado have too many of their own reconstruction problems to help, however willing they might be to do so. That means I might need to cut deals with Carcino and Rausten – they were the lucky ones, not losing many authority figures._

_What would I do with Carcino? Maybe I should try to get Rennac to help negotiate for aid? I haven't talked to him very much…looks like I need to make another friend, but I'll have to be careful about it. He's not a trusting soul, and for good reason…_. Joshua's thoughts tapered off, and he realized that he had just stumbled upon Saleh. The sage's legs were folded, and his hands were set on his knees. His eyes were apparently closed, and the redhead could feel a distinct shift in the air that surrounded the gray-haired magician.

_He's using magic without a tome? Interesting…_. Joshua took a step forward, but he felt the aura surrounding the Caer Pelyn native vanish.

"What is it?"

"Ah, Saleh. Mornin'. Sorry for disturbin' your training."

"It is no matter," Saleh replied. He rose to his feet and turned to face the redheaded swordsman. "Good morning, King Joshua. Did you sleep well?"

Waving his hand dismissively, Joshua sniffed. "Meh. Just call me Joshua. I hate formalities – it's why I left Jehanna Hall in the first place."

"Very well then, Joshua."

The redhead paused for a moment. Then, he leaned forward conspiratorially, and put up a hand to whisper, "Say, Saleh…"

"Hm?"

"You…you didn't see anything…out of place last night, did you…?"

Wise as he was, the sage caught his implication. "Fear not, Joshua. I have nothing to gain of sharing your…misadventure, and I would not speak of it even if I did."

"Good to hear. Thanks," Joshua replied. His face then scrunched up thoughtfully, and Saleh waited for his words.

"What say you and I make a bet? The loser owes the winner a favor."

The gray-haired villager wrinkled his nose in response. "No sleight-of-hand, Joshua; Gerik told me of your tricks, and I would have seen it regardless."

The redhead replied with a cheeky grin. "What? Are you calling me a cheater?"

"I believe I am," Saleh steadily countered.

"Well, not this time." Producing a coin from his pocket, he explained, "Call it in the air."

"Tails."

As Joshua moved to snatch the coin out of the air, Saleh snared his hand at the wrist, and glared at the coin. The moment it struck the ground, it adhered tightly to the earth, not bouncing back up or rolling about.

The red-haired prince tilted his head in amusement. "Thorough, aren't you?"

"A wise man does it right the first time."

Joshua grinned in response, and knelt over with Saleh to inspect the result.

"…Tails. Whaddaya want me to do?"

"…" Saleh was quiet for some time, then he replied with, "I will remember this, and I will think of a suitable favor to ask of you."

"Ooh," Joshua offered, punctuating his words with a goofy grin. "Should I be scared?"

The other man ignored him. "For now, let us join everyone else for breakfast."

On cue, Joshua's stomach growled. Only the ghost of a smile graced Saleh's face, but the other man didn't hide his friendly grin.

As they walked to the kitchen, the magician inquired, "If you had won, what would you have asked of me?"

"I woulda asked you to be a chief advisor and royal mage for Jehanna. Figure I'd need one, since a sage like yourself in power would be good for earning the popular support of the magician mercenary crowd."

Saleh furrowed his brow in response, and paused for a while. At length, he eventually replied, "I have my favor."

The redhead turned to look at his companion. "Hm?"

"One day, I will send Ewan to you. When that day comes, make him the advisor and chief magician you sought to make me."

Joshua shrugged. "Sure." Furrowing his brow, he realized what Saleh intended to do, and asked, "You'll send him once he's fit for the job, right? I figure you're a smart guy, so you would know when he'd be ready."

"Indeed." The Caer Pelyn native paused briefly, then added, "I thought you might balk at my request – it is Ewan we speak of, after all." Saleh's mouth twitched, which sharply contrasted with Joshua's uninhibited laughter. "Your insight is superb. Had I not known you to be royalty, I would have been very surprised…"

"Don't judge a tome by its cover," the king of Jehanna replied. Then, he broke out a friendly grin. "But enough of that. Let's eat."

* * *

"Haaaaaaaaaammm…" 

Nightly walks always seemed to do good for Joshua. Ever since his father's death, he'd sneak out of the Hall and enjoy the chilly breezes, the feel of sand scuffling his boots, the soft moonlight. For over ten years, whenever sleep eluded him, he'd simply stroll out into the night, and come back ready to crash. Caellach always shook his head and told him nights were better spent on drinks and the ladies, but the larger man knew that his swordsman companion was always a little eccentric, and left him to his own devices. Besides, Caellach didn't really care – it meant more women for him.

Dodging Frelian security had proved to be infinitely annoying – Pegasi had terrific hearing and noses, not to mention their speed – but ultimately, no common soldier was going to stop the self-exiled prince of Jehanna from doing as he pleased. Half-crouching to shuffle past a pair of patrolling guards, he easily made his way back to the guest chambers of Castle Frelia, and found his room on the third floor – if he remembered right, the four cavaliers from Renais, Garcia, and Ross were also on this floor.

Which was why he was surprised to see a distinctive shade of light-blue hair and the combat dress of Princess Eirika of Renais outside his room. Canting his head to the side, he put on a roguish grin full of white teeth and sauntered over to the door. "Ooh, scandalous. A princess, here, at this time of day?"

She did not hide her amused smile as she bowed her head and replied, "Sir Joshua."

"Ya need something?" he inquired as he opened the door to his room.

"Yes." He stopped. "We part ways tomorrow, my brother and I – and he has the far more dangerous duty. He may be flanking Grado's troop movements, but he is still taking on an army with so few in comparison. I…I would ask of you – no, beg of you – to join my brother and help protect him."

Miscommunication, he'd learned, was a very disastrous thing. It was wholly necessary in his career as a mercenary, after all – coordinating where, when, who, and how much (he'd earn, that is) was central to the job. He and Caellach had fought alongside each other so many times that they knew all the preferred strokes and swings, when to step in and help, when to sit back and watch, who to leave to the other – it had been almost second nature after their third year of partnership. It got to the point where the smaller redhead could simply duck and let his axe-wielding partner-in-crime stick a hand axe or tomahawk into an enemy flanking Joshua without cues or shouting – just instinct.

Though he'd seen very little of how the twins interacted, he imagined they got along _very_ well. Seeing Eirika very nearly drop her sword to run and crush her brother in a delighted embrace back at Renvall (_in the middle of a battle_, no less!) was proof that she could very easily worry herself sick over him. Judging by how bright Ephraim's smile had been, it seemed as if he was much the same. Obviously, they'd be very concerned over each other. And Joshua had about a dozen guesses as to how they'd reassure themselves of each other's safety. _Wait…um…Gilliam, Vanessa, Moulder, Natasha, Ross, Garcia, Artur, Lute, the four horsemen, Neimi, Colm, and me…that's fifteen._

Ah, the wonders miscommunication wrought. Maybe the twins just loved each other too much to have an argument over who went where? _The hell if I'll ever know,_ the redhead grumbled to himself. "I assume you've asked everyone else in our motley crew to do the same?"

Eirika jerked slightly in surprise, but nodded and replied, "Yes. I've requested each of them to help my brother. You're the last."

"My, how special I must be," Joshua jokingly offered. He then wrinkled his nose and looked the princess straight into her cerulean eyes. "I think your brother would want _someone_ to watch over you. He'll worry about you, too. Besides, something unexpected can happen, and you'll need help. I also have some pretty important business to attend to in Jehanna, so, tell ya what – I'll head with you to Port Kiris, then I'll split off." Cutting off her protest, he continued, "It's some _really_ important stuff – something that could prove pivotal to the war, actually." _I'm way overdue for a homecoming, anyways – I just hope all the stuffy nobles and servants don't bite my head off for being AWOL for so long…_

"Really?" she inquired. Joshua shot her another roguish grin in response, and she smiled. "You do know that Prince Innes travels to Jehanna, no?"

"Is he? …Hm. Guess I'll have to play catch-up, then."

Eirika pleaded once more, "What is this business of yours? Are you sure it is so dire that you cannot go with my brother?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Sorry. Not in a mood to tell." _It'd raise too many questions. Best to answer them once I'm ready_.

The blue-haired princess frowned. "Is it even important, or are you just trying to deceive me?"

"Hey now, nothing like that," the redhead replied, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. "It's just so vital that it's confidential, that's all."

She regarded him skeptically. "If you say so…"

"Hey, I might cheat, but I don't tell lies. Those are two entirely different things." Producing a coin from his pocket, he offered, "Tell ya what – since you're so insistent about it, let's make a bet. Call it in the air, heads or tails. If I win, I'll go with you until Port Kiris. If you win, I'll join Prince Ephraim. How's that sound? You in?"

"Sir Joshua, please," she began. "If something happened to my brother, I don't-"

"And if something happened to you, he'd be just as devastated," the redhead countered. "Play along – it's a win-win situation."

Eirika sighed. "Erm…heads."

"All right. Then I'm tails. Here goes.

"Aaaand…" He flipped the coin high, then snatched it out of the air and held his closed fist before his face.

"What is it?"

He turned his hand over, opened his fist, and showed her the result.

Tails.

She frowned, then looked up into his eyes, a hint of desperate pleading beneath those deep sapphire orbs. "Please, Sir Joshua, my brother is-"

"Are you trying to worm out of a bet, milady?" She blinked in surprise, and looked at him inquisitively.

"'Cause if you are, we might have to settle this over a duel."

Eirika's eyes widened in surprise. "A duel? We…we don't have time for one. We part ways tomorrow-"

"So quit protesting and just let me go with you, all right? Don't worry – I won't be missed by everybody else."

Joshua had a nasty habit of being wrong whenever he said, "Don't worry."

* * *

"Waaaiiit!" 

Two heads whirled to face the fussy braying of a Pegasus and the loud call of its rider. Eirika's jaw dropped in shock, and Joshua quirked an eyebrow in surprise. The pair had already departed briskly, and had not wasted time on farewells. Which was apparently why she'd run out after them.

"Tana! What are you doing out here?"

The Frelian princess sighed. "All of you are running off to war and risking your lives. I couldn't bring myself to just sit at home and wait – who are you kidding?" She paused when her eyes met with that of the red-haired swordsman, and she inquired of her friend, "Ooh! Who's this?" A cursory glance showed a handsome redhead with eyes to match, dressed in a deep green tunic, cloud-colored leggings, and a viridian hat pulled so far down it seemed to half-blind him. A sheathed Killing Edge hung at his side, and he also carried a normal straight sword strapped to his back along with a Lancereaver. Looking closer, the navy-haired Pegasus knight saw white bandages wrapped around his forearms, and wondered at what scars they might hide.

Jabbing his cap with his thumb and canting his head – a gesture that always worked phenomenally with women – he slapped on his roguish grin and replied, "Sir Joshua of Jehanna, at your service."

Tana cast her cerulean-haired friend a suspicious look. "What are you doing with this guy? Please tell me…"

Eirika smiled. "He offered to accompany me until Port Kiris. Sir Joshua claims to have important business to attend to in Jehanna. Allegedly something pivotal to the war."

The navy-haired princess narrowed her eyes, already suspecting something fishy. _Pivotal business…whatever could he be talking about? How would a mere mercenary's dealings affect a war?_

Noting the distrust in Tana's eyes, the princess of Renais reassured her. "Don't worry. Sir Joshua is very trustworthy – otherwise I wouldn't have let him accompany me."

Tired of simply sitting there and being scrutinized, the redhead added, "Relax." He shrugged, and continued, "Besides, Her Highness here is kinda flat, so I won't be-"

Tana's jaw shot open, and she eventually collected enough of her wits to shout in revulsion, "HEY! Don't talk about Eirika like that, you pervert!"

The other princess, however, never responded, opting to just stand there with her mouth hanging open and red in her cheeks.

Joshua's shameless grin did not leave, not even after Eirika's blush did.

At least, not until they arrived.

"Wow…" The two princesses turned round and round, slowly taking in the sights and the ocean smell.

"Yup. This is Port Kiris, one of Magvel's biggest trade centers. Trade between Rausten, Frelia, Carcino, and even Renais happens here, so there's all sorts of people you'll meet. Full of the usual haunts – taverns, gambling halls, an armory and a sorcery store, and if I remember right, that barkeep Caellach stiffed is somewhere around here…gotta watch for that." His voice had shrunken into mumbling, and neither Eirika nor Tana heard him.

"Well, at any rate, enjoy the sights, but don't forget why we're here."

Eirika nodded. "Yes. I am Erina, a mercenary headed to Rausten for payment for my latest contract."

"I'm Tara, her companion," the other princess chimed in. "Let's get to finding a boat already, then!"

"…My, these crumpets are just perfect!"

"Huh?" All three royalty turned to face the source of a comment – a green-haired woman on horseback accompanied by a viridian-haired, stout-looking man in red armor and a well-dressed brunette. The woman was busy nibbling at some small snack, and she eventually noticed the presence of the other three.

"Why, hello. These crumpets are simply delicious! Perhaps you would like one?"

Eirika gave Joshua a questioning look. He shrugged in response. She nodded, then replied to the rider, "I…I suppose."

While she took a bite out of the snack, the green-haired woman asked, "What business have you in Port Kiris?"

"We're here for a ship to Rausten," Tana replied.

"Well, I'm afraid that you're out of luck, my friends. There have been reports of a ghost ship traversing the seas between Carcino and Rausten. The tales terrify the local sailors, and they dare not to set sail. I, too, was looking to sail to Rausten, but I may simply have to take the land route!"

"Which leads through Carcino," Joshua added. "And takes much longer. And could be dangerous, since Grado has invaded Jehanna and most of the trails head through Jehanna. Any other path comes to close to Darkling Woods, which is a no-no."

"But I will fear not!" the horse-rider replied. "I command the strength of the Light! Nothing will befall me as long as I hold faith in it! We leave for the overland pass! Dozla, Rennac, let's go!"

"Ha ha ha! Let's get moving, Rennac!"

The stylish brunette sighed in exasperation. "Those two morons…"

As the (more) eccentric trio left, Joshua, Eirika, and Tana dumbly stared after them. The swordsman broke the silence first, asking, "Well, what to do? You can try to convince someone to set sail, or you can take the longer overland pass. I doubt you'll want to wait for something that won't happen, but you also need to be…" He trailed off as he heard heavy footfalls approaching them. Turning to face the source, his gaze met a gruffly dressed, viridian-haired, burly axeman.

"Yer Princess Eirika of Renais?"

Raising an eyebrow at the other warrior, Joshua interjected, "Might wanna back up, buddy. I don't mind you, but we've got a pair of delicate sensibilities here…"

Binks chuckled, and replied, "'Fraid I can't do that. There's a juicy price on yer head, after all…." Looking closely, the prince of Jehanna saw mercenaries of all kinds began to gather in the city's corners. Mages, swordsmen, axemen, spearfighters, archers – the whole kaboodle came forth as Binks vanished into their ranks. _How much?_ Joshua rhetorically inquired.

He sighed at length, then admonished the mercenary, "Bad mistake, buddy…"

Snatching the Lancereaver tied to his back, he sprinted straight for the commonplace soldiers some meters away as he drew the specialized blade. Hearing the braying of Achaeus, Tana's Pegasus, and the metallic grating of Eirika's rapier being drawn, he allowed himself a feral grin as he caught the first lance with the intricately crafted handle, wrenched the metal point away, swatted the soldier's shield aside, and slicing a line from his left shoulder to right hip. Joshua ignored the soldier's eyes widening then dimming, instead focusing on the swordfighter coming at him. His foe came in with a powerful vertical swing that he parried into the ground. The redhead followed with a side-kick to the chest, and used the space to shut his eyes for a moment of concentration, producing a pair of mirror-images.

_Just another day of work._

_

* * *

_

Joshua has always enjoyed silence.

It seems contrary to his nature. He can be irritatingly flaky, shamelessly forward, unbelievably goofy, any one of these whenever the spirit moves him so. Starting shit storms was a pastime of his as a child, and he often gets into bar fights when he feels compelled to be a smartass. But he enjoys companionable silences, contemplative silences, even lulls in combat. It means he doesn't have to do anything but sit back and enjoy it. He can just stretch or take a nap in the presence of silence. He can take a breather from a fight before collecting himself and stepping back into the melee.

Amid the roaring of magic spells, the ringing of metal on metal, and war cries shouted back and forth, he finds silence. A serene quiet, however, it is not – this silence is wrought of pain. Shock. Recognition. Too many things to bother naming in the din of battle.

He'd seen him flinch the moment he set foot in the throne room. He saw his grip tighten on his sword. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gerik slam a loud dent into one of the last armored knights, barely noticing it as he marches across the hall, towards the seat of power.

"You…" the aging brunette frowns, not quite believing what he sees. "…could it be?"

The other man grits his jaw and does not bother hiding his ice-hot rage. Halting in the middle of the room, he quietly demands, "Carlyle…how did this happen? You taught me how to wield a blade. _You_ of all people…" He trails off, words failing him, as he begins to lose himself to the anger betrayal rouses from within.

"You've returned," Jehanna's most decorated general idly notes. "But now…" Gesturing to the dead knights and mages before him, he continues, "It's too late. You're far too late…" Shaking his head in resigned exhaustion, Carlyle readied his grip on his Wind Sword.

"You're wrong."

The self-exiled prince's words catch his attention, and Carlyle raises his head to gaze into Joshua's crimson eyes, which now burn with unforgiving wrath.

"I'm not too late…to kill you for your betrayal."

Snapping into a one-armed salute-guard, the general replies, "We shall see."

Joshua brings his blade into a one-handed low guard and drags it across the throne room floor, kicking up sparks as he screams incoherently and charges his former mentor. Carlyle raises his sword to ready a sickle of compressed air from the magic in the Wind Sword, but is interrupted by the need to dodge a bolt of fire. Diving out of the way, he only has enough time to spare the source of the magical attack – a gray-haired mage who looked no older than Joshua – before the prince is upon him.

Ten years of field experience and the extensive lessons of his father and Carlyle meld the rage smoldering within Joshua into a terrifyingly powerful fuel. He does not swing with furious abandon – that is Ross's style, the way axemen do battle, how youngsters enter combat when their emotions rouse. It is not how swordsmen are taught to fight. He strikes with every bit of precision that he always fights with – just harder and faster. The battle reaches such a fever pitch that the mage and the gray-haired archer cannot find openings for their ranged attacks, and neither the woman nor the burly viridian-haired…mercenary? Yes, that dress must a mercenary's…have an opportunity to step in and assist their fellow swordsman. Joshua's Killing Edge (which he has reforged whenever possible, unbeknownst to the general) and Carlyle's magical blade morph into mere blurs, and the two fighters move incomprehensibly quickly, blades and feet flashing left, right, every direction.

Three minutes pass, and Joshua finally finds purchase on the general's blade long enough to sweep it aside, and he goes for a killing vertical strike straight down the middle. Carlyle snaps his sword back into a horizontal guard, and they lock blades for a few moments. The bearded man's eyes seemed almost devoid of emotion, as always – the redhead, once he would come to a more lucid moment, would judge it to carry traces of a resigned determination. The desert prince's gaze burns red-hot, and he grits his teeth before screaming and shoving his own sword upward. Carlyle's blade catches on the hilt of the Killing Edge, and his arms are forced up and he stumbles backwards from the push. Joshua sees this opening, he always sees openings – it's what the swordplay of Jehanna teaches. This window to strike is no different. From its position over his head, he gathers his sword and takes another mighty downward swing, leaning forward to generate momentum, his training shuffling his right foot backwards to provide balance and power.

The Killing Edge slices a gash into the floor about six inches long before it snaps in two from the sheer force of the blow. Carlyle is smote from his right shoulder to his left hip with a deep wound, one that splatters blood in the same direction as Joshua's deathblow. The older man stumbles backward, reflexively pushing his blade behind him to hold him up as he bites back a scream. It would not be very becoming of a general, he decides, to simply collapse under the force of any blow. Eventually, though, with his strength fading, he loses his grip on the Wind Blade and begins to fall backward. Joshua snares a fistful of his onyx military tunic, and Carlyle can clearly see the desperation, the anger, the _hate_ in the younger man's red eyes, the same red eyes as the woman he should never have fallen in love with, but did anyways.

Ismaire. He realizes that she will be overjoyed to see her son return. He realizes that this boy…no, man, will give her a happiness that Carlyle cannot provide her with. This blow to his psyche does not damage his dwindling sanity – it recovers it. His eyes widen with realization. He was a fool, a damned fool. A weakling. He turned his nation over to the Tiger's Eye so he could claim the hand of the woman he desired, and he somehow forgot that she was the Queen of the White Dunes. Loyalty to her nation was in her blood, it swam in her veins – this betrayal would turn her against him, yet he never realized it, blinded by some damned unholy attraction. When Caellach arrived, he did not even receive the prize he'd hoped for – it was taken from him, and he wasn't even strong enough to protect her. He'd forced open an opportunity to be with her, and he had forfeited it. He realizes now, that he had been a miserable, blind slime these twenty years.

Love at first sight is for fools, he decides, as Joshua angrily shakes the dying man and loudly demands, "_Why_!"

Carlyle grimaces, managing, "I…I just wanted…the two of us…" The redhead stiffens, and the shock very nearly removes his grip from his teacher.

"Queen Ismaire…I'm…so…rry…"

Finally heeding Eirika's pleading screams to let him go, Joshua shuts his eyes and averts his gaze in disgust. His teacher loved his _mother_? _That_ was why he'd betrayed Jehanna, betrayed her? What could drive him to such depravity? Opening his fist, he cracks one eye open and watches the man who taught him his craft of war, the man who'd patted him on the head, encouraged him, scolded him for his (endearing) impudence, the one who'd been his second father between his true father's death and his own departure collapse to the ground.

With a small smile to his face. Joshua can clearly see the recognition in Carlyle's face. Does he see the error of his ways? Yes, he does, the prince realizes, as he remembers that Carlyle would smile the exact same way when Joshua showed him his mastery of another swordplay form. Joshua grimaces, the mental anguish pressing powerfully against his heart and his mind. If anything more happens this day, he figures, he'll start crying, and he can't have that. He'd pull out a coin and flip it to test his luck concerning his hypothesis, but he's busy repressing his sorrow, his pain.

He wouldn't dare cry.

He's the itinerant cavalier, the rakish rogue, the devil-may-cry gambling addict who has an affinity for pretty women and sleight-of-hand. He's not some bawling, babbling dimwit who can't stand up to some emotional crisis. Someone as shameless as himself should never cry, he believes. Men fight, right? They pick up their weapons and stand up to their problems, their fights, and do battle until it ends or they end, right? They don't turn into introverted, angsty messes that are crippled by their sorrow, right?

His masculinity conveniently ignores the fact that crying is the way to heal emotional wounds such as these, especially wounds such as this one, because he's a man and he _can't cry_, damnit. Men aren't supposed to show weakness, he thinks.

Sometimes, women have it easy. Ego is a terrible thing, even worse when the egotist sees it as strength.

_Your Highness…King Jeremiah…forgive me…_. Carlyle can hear the archer angrily demanding how some common mercenary learned the sword from Jehanna's highest general, and his dying breath is spent on the mental efforts necessary to realize what Joshua had done these past ten years.

Joshua likes silences. He finds them comforting, which is why he does not respond to Innes' suspicious questioning.

* * *

Ten years wandering the entirety of Magvel everyday has taught Joshua that you learn something new everyday. 

_Daily Lesson #1: Wall-running acrobatics work great against horses if you don't land on the horse's rear._

Gingerly rubbing at the pain in his chest, he decides that such a stunt is not conducive to health, especially if the horse kicks out in response (thankfully, the horse didn't actually hit him). Still, his likely broken rib won't stop him, and he rises to his feet with a pained grunt. He sees that purple-haired woman Marisa finish off another axe-waving bandit, and shakily makes his way over to the gates of the city they've finally reached.

Weakly chuckling, Joshua slumps against a wall, trying to gather his absent reserves for the last wave of soldiers. "Some rescue, huh?"

"Hey, now, the end's in sight," the burly viridian-haired man – Gerik, a famous mercenary troop leader – replies. "You gonna choke on the home stretch?"

Another tired chuckle. "Nah. Never did. Don't plan to start that now. Here's hoping my luck doesn't run dry…"

"Enough chatter," the terse voice of Prince Innes calls from above. "The last wave comes."

Taking on an army is only a sound idea when you have the advantage, be it in numbers, skill, or tactical matters. Mounting a rescue operation is tricky, and retreat is usually what follows the rescuing – unless you have overwhelming numbers or the ability to cut down entire armies with a single sword-stroke. Which is why Joshua curses under his breath as he shakes the cobwebs away and readies his sword. He, Eirika and Tana had none of those advantages over Pablo's mercenary army when they charged, wound up digging into a fortress after reaching Innes, and right now would trade all their collective luck for a Sacred Twin. It would certainly save them so much effort after having weathered out five waves of mercenaries, one of them being composed entirely of horse and Pegasus riders – which was the reason as to why Joshua broke his rib over anti-cavalry acrobatics. _I hate improvising_, Joshua mentally groans.

To his right, Princess Eirika inquires, "Are you sure you can still fight?" but he only faintly registers that. His pulse thuds in his ears as he sees the last wave of soldiers, a bunch of bandits (easy), a few swordsmen (damnit, why did I go and break my rib!) and a mage (best leave him to Innes). The magician is perched before the entrance to what looks like some kind of important building – the Carcino Council Hall, perhaps? His self-satisfied smirk contrasts sharply with the incoherent hollering and rampaging of the burly, ugly axemen, and if the redhead doesn't know any better, he'd say that the bastard thinks they're all dead or dying. Joshua spares a thankful thought that he didn't turn out to be like them, and takes a deep breath. To his left, he sees Gerik shift his sword on his shoulder, and Marisa ready her curved Shamshir – hopefully, it won't break in the middle of the fighting because _that _would be disastrous. Not that their current situation isn't, but Joshua doesn't like stacking the odds against himself. He doesn't consider himself _that_ lucky.

His breath is ragged, his hair is matted with sweat and some small splotches of blood from his foes, and he grimaces at the pain in his chest that spikes each time he inhales. Again, he hears Eirika pleading with him to rest and leave the fight to the others, but he won't. He couldn't possibly sit down and tend to himself when everybody else is fighting injured like he is. Eirika has ugly-looking slashes on her temple and left arm, Innes has a few burns from narrow scrapes with blasts of Thunder and Fire, Tana's mount has its share of scratches, and everybody else is looking worse for the wear. Even the dancer Tethys is not unscathed, though she only has a few simple arrow wounds.

The bandits eventually converge on them, their ranks dwindling as fast as Innes can line up shots at the head and neck. Eirika swats a hurtling hand axe aside, Marisa sprints forward into their ranks, and Gerik and Joshua hold their ground. One of the bandits takes a powerful swing at Joshua that is so wild and wide he can sidestep it easily in his injured state. Swatting the axe into the ground, he takes a swift upswing at the bandit's throat and moves onto the next one. Ducking under the horizontal swing and countering with a stab into the gut, he spins as he yanks his Killing Edge out and takes a heavy downward swing at another axefighter trying to surround Eirika. The blow cleaves a clean diagonal slash across the brigand's back, and he instantly flails to the ground. Staggering to the side and out of the melee, Joshua collects his breath, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. Gerik is dealing deathblows left and right, and Marisa dances out of the way of swings and into slices at the knees and necks of her foes. With her disadvantage in wielding spears against the bandits, Tana swoops down on the swordsmen, darting in with a stab and dashing out before they can retaliate. Tethys does what she can to re-energize Innes with her dancing, but the strain of quickly launching precision shots is visible in how the gray-haired archer's gaze narrows and how his jaw clenches each time he unleashes another feathered shaft.

The bandits and swordsmen are vanquished in short order, and Joshua collapses against the wall of an arena, breathing heavily in exhaustion and pain, trying to summon the last of his energy to ready for combat with the mage. Eirika rushes to his side, Tana hot on her heels, and she kneels before him and inquires in a panicked voice, "Sir Joshua, are you all right?"

He grunts, offers an expression torn between a smirk and a wince, and manages to reply, "No."

"Tana, take him to back to where Innes is. Do you know where you are injured, Sir Joshua?"

"I…think I cracked a rib," he softly replies, each breath becoming more pained.

_Daily Lesson #2: Never fight on a broken rib if you have the room to recover._

He sighs, realizing that hindsight is 20/20, and mentally notes to never fight with injuries that affect his breathing.

"Lady Tethys! Treat Sir Joshua's wounds – Tana will bring him over!"

Tethys' reply is drowned out by a bolt of fire rocketing into their midst, at the bunch of fighters surrounding the injured Joshua. Gerik shouts out a warning, Marisa moves to close the distance to the mage, and Tana spurs her mount to evade the magic projectile. Eirika, however, turns around too late.

Pushing himself off the ground with a pained grunt, Joshua rises and shoves Eirika out of the way and collapses after her weakly. The Elfire charge only nicks him, but the projectile's explosion sends him careening into the wall of the coliseum with a loud scream of pain. Exhausted and injured as he is, he cannot rise, and simply slumps against the building, his breath weak with pain and fatigue.

"Never trust another to do a job right," the mage announces aloud. "My mercenaries have proven inadequate, but I shall finish you stragglers off all the same. They've done their job – weakened as you all are, you stand no chance.

"I'll start with the wounded over there," he adds, weaving together a rune. Chuckling darkly, he says, "How noble, taking a magic bolt for the princess of Renais. Pity you-urgh!"

An arrow to the knee silences Pablo's arrogance, and the aging councilman winces and looks up.

"Your trap has failed, Pablo. Failure to trap me is expensive, and I have a debt to collect from you," Innes coldly interjects, and notches another arrow into his bow. Before the politician can dodge, he looses it and it connects with Pablo's gut. He readies another arrow, but the old man has weaved together a rune, and Innes dives for cover. Looking back at his foe, he sees that Pablo was not readying another shot of Elfire, but instead chose to craft a teleport rune. By the time he readies another arrow, Pablo vanishes, shouting, "Grado's might is unmatched, fools! You will fall before them, and I will rise to power!" Innes averts his gaze from the brilliant flash, and, upon seeing the councilman's absence, sighs and flops onto his seat.

"Sir Joshua! By Saint Latona, you're-"

The redhead grimaces, and waves away Eirika's concerns. "I'm not dead yet…this isn't too bad…" He flinched at another jolt of pain in his scorched side, and continues, "You got a mission to finish, don'tcha? …Skedaddle. I'll catch up…once I heal," he weakly whispers.

"I am at fault for your injury, Sir Joshua," the princess of Renais protests. "Please, let me tend to it." She motions for Tethys to bring an Elixir down, and the redheaded woman hurries over.

"You gonna botch yer mission…over a silly mercenary's wound…" he admonished, even as Eirika took the magical potion from the dancer. "Get outta here…get goin'…to Jehanna…the mission…takes priority…"

Gerik shuts his eyes. "Part of the unofficial merc creed, milady," the tall swordsman explains. "Mercenaries aim to accomplish the goals of their employers. They'll try to remove themselves and tend to their own wounds if they get injured badly, and will refuse to become deadweights. That's what no mercenary wants – to be helpless. They are hired to be boons, not burdens."

Eirika grew silent, instead focusing on soaking a bandage in the medicine.

"…But…" the green-haired mercenary smiles, and opens his eyes. He continues, "I already said I'm a sucker for melodrama. We'll get you fixed up, then we'll move. If I'm not mistaken, we need an explanation from Carcino's Council of Elders, don't we, Prince?"

"Yes, we do," Innes replies as he marched down the stairs. "We'll spend the night here and tend to the wounded, then march on the Councilman Hall tomorrow. And abandoning you here would be akin to killing you with my own hands. I'll have none of that, not with someone as skilled as you are."

"Exactly, so don't be so stubborn, Sir Joshua," his sister admonishes, shaking a finger.

"We need all the help we can get on this journey, now that Carcino has betrayed Frelia," the archer prince adds. "Your contract of service is not over yet, Joshua."

Despite the sharp pains in his chest and the still-smoking burn in his left back, Joshua settles back onto the arena and grins.

_Daily Lesson #3: True friends are a nice thing to have_.

_Daily Lesson #4: Drinking buddy, coworker, true friend._ _Pick two._

Eirika ignores his weak half-protests and removes his tunic, and Joshua falls asleep under the soft touch of the fair princess and the soothing effect of the Elixir-soaked bandage.

* * *

"_What's your name, boy?"_

"_Who, me?"_

"_Yeah, you, kid. What's your name? And where'd you learn how to fight with a sword like that?"_

"_I'm Joshua, and you don't need to know."_

"_Oh…a secret, is it? Well, either way, you're damned good. A lad like you isn't this good normally."_

"_Yeah, well who the hell are you?"_

"_I'm Caellach, kiddo. …What say you and I start workin' together? Sword and axe…I can already see us as legends. Two of the finest mercenaries Magvel has ever seen. Joshua and Caellach…I already like the sound of that…"_

"…_I'm making my own name. I don't need any help, old guy."_

_A humored chuckle. "I'm only…what, five, six years older…? …I like your guts, kiddo. But don't be dumb – mercenaries survive a lot less frequently without lending each other a hand. In fact, I killed at least three lancemen trying to kebab your ass just in this mission."_

"……"

"_See? Nobody said a mercenary always gotta be alone. Drinks taste better with a buddy, too."_

"…_Whatever, old guy."_

"_Hey, Joshua. Use my real name."_

"…_Fine, Caellach."_

"_Now, let's go fetch us some drinks._

"_And tell me something else. Joshua, you like gambling?"_

* * *

If you could piece together _Pulp Fiction_'s jumbled perspectives together and figure out what was going on, you'll know what all this amounts to.

Kudos to Geno Calamari for inspiring the perspective to this chapter. He's one of the Naruto fandom's best writers, a terrific mix of brutal, wry, and smart. We'll never agree about Shikamaru, but he's still one of the best writers I've ever seen. Hope you aren't offended by my shameless aping, Mr. Mollusk.

I'll write some more of these kinds of chapters, for both more of Joshua-centric events and those of Ephraim and perhaps other characters.

I hope you're enjoying this fic. I'm having a lot of fun writing it, that's for sure.

_Reviewer responses_:

**Ljusets Korsriddare:** Fuck fluff. I already said that royal feudalism isn't happy flying pink bunnies.

**Kazekage26:** Marisa fanboy much? She isn't that critical to the plot yet, though Jehanna's military may soon receive focus once I return all the characters to their homelands.

**Phantom Kensai:** Read the Innes/L'Arachel conversations – the innuendo was so heavy I expected them to go at it like bunnies at any point in the conversations. And what the hell are you, psychic? I'm considering Eirika/Saleh even as we speak.


	4. Distant Shadows

**_On Epiphanies_**

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Fire Emblem – the Sword Demon would have been remade to be incomprehensibly awesome. These post-game events, however, I do own.

"speech"

_thoughts / flashbacks / emphasis / etc._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 3: Distant Shadows**

**

* * *

**

"Brother, it is time to rise.

"Brother, wake up."

"Nnggmph…no, Mother…five more minutes…"

Eirika frowned in puzzlement, and tried once more. "It's me, your sister Eirika. Wake up, brother…"

"Nng…I don't want cookies, sis…you always burn them…" he mumbled in response.

The blue-haired woman smiled at his incoherent grumbling, but still shook Ephraim gently. "Wake up, brother, or I'll tell Sister Natasha to burn your scrambled eggs."

Her twin brother shot up like one of Innes' arrows upon hearing this, and he shouted, "Don't you dare-! Oh, Eirika. My apologies, sister."

Eirika smiled again, and replied, "Good morning, brother."

Ephraim's shirt muffled his reply as he changed into his riding armor.

* * *

"Ahoy, Ephraim!" 

The king of Renais looked up from his morning spear practice (the only way to truly remove his sleepiness) and nodded in acknowledgement to Joshua carrying a wooden practice sword. "Joshua, good morning. You enjoyed breakfast?"

The redhead chuckled. "Pity Natasha's a cleric, because she could get _anybody_ with her culinary skills."

Ephraim nodded. _The fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach…another point in favor of Eirika. Perhaps _you_ are the one who will fall first, Joshua?_

"You intend to win my sister over? She says you allowed for a six-month period in which she will confess your love for you, with the potential marriage at stake." He narrowed his cerulean eyes at the king of Jehanna. "Is this not undue pressure? I believe she still mourns the loss of Lyon, especially since…well…"

"…Yeah," Joshua agreed. He'd heard Lyon's confession, too (just barely; good thing his mercenary career sharpened his hearing) – and he'd seen how it shattered Eirika, to never have the chance to return his love. Not that Joshua knew much of romance – he was no avid fan of it outside its…benefits – but for crying out loud, she'd looked like she'd fall apart and start bawling right then and there.

"I'll give her whatever space she needs. You can do the comforting – seeing as how you're her twin brother and I'm just a friend and newly self-christened suitor."

Ephraim regarded Joshua with confusion. "If you're trying to woo her, shouldn't _you_ be the one to be by her side?"

The redhead rakishly grinned and replied, "Nope. That's not how I do things. You're the man for the job, not me. Why should I try if you can do it better than me?

"Enough about that, though. You up to spar today?"

Ephraim countered with a feral grin and, "I feared you would never ask."

* * *

Loud clangs of wood awoke the maroon-haired Silver Knight of Renais. Seth rose and rubbed at the grit in his eyes, when a loud shout of, "Ephraim! Chill the fuck out, you're backing me – shit!" awoke him completely. 

That, and the spear point that poked through the side of his tent, about six inches shy of puncturing his head.

Seth instantly shed his covers, jumped out of bed, and hurried to put on his boots before rushing out of his tent to see what was with the ruckus. King Ephraim and King Joshua were sparring, his liege lord wielding a common iron lance, and the desert king with a wooden sparring sword. The sight relaxed Seth visibly, and his hand strayed from his own blade.

"Ah, Seth. Apologies," Ephraim managed as he tried for a trio of stabs that Joshua parried before bringing the staff over his head to take a strong diagonal slash that the redhead jumped back from.

"It's all right, milord," Seth hastily replied. Searching for and settling on a nearby rock, the young general flopped onto it with a measure of calm anticipation. A fight between two as skilled as King Ephraim and King Joshua would surely be a great sight.

Ephraim started once more with a jab that Joshua sidestepped and parried. Ducking under the redhead's slash that raked across the shaft of the spear, he swung the other end, followed with a spin, and stabbed once more. Joshua parried this blow as well, and snatched the shaft before reaching back to swing at Ephraim. The aqua-haired man ducked under the slash, and sidestepped wide to avoid the stab Joshua used to recover. Releasing his grip on his weapon briefly, Ephraim launched a step-sidekick into Joshua's gut, and yanked his spear away from the swordsman's grasp. The desert king fell back onto his seat and rolled over once before stopping and rising to his feet in one motion.

"Where'd ya learn that unarmed fighting? Guess curricula are pretty thorough in Renais, too…"

"Disarming foes and recovering your own weapon were considered basics in the elite spear styles of Renais." Ephraim grinned. "Besides, you didn't believe for even one second that you could end the fight so quickly, did you?"

Joshua returned a rakish smirk of his own. "Heh…"

* * *

Eirika set the cup down and smiled brightly. "The tea is perfect, Sister Natasha. Thank you so much." 

The nun opened her mouth to respond, but the loud clatter of horse hooves cut her off. Eirika, Natasha, Tana and Syrene (who had politely refused the tea and stood watch over the ladies) all spun their heads to see Kyle's steed carrying him past them at a not-so-leisurely pace.

"A battle?" the green-haired Pegasus knight inquired.

"Let's go see!" Tana countered, shooting out of her chair and following after the knight as fast as she could manage. The others took a more leisurely pace.

When they arrived, they saw Joshua parry and duck under another stab, following it with an uppercut slash. Ephraim shifted the shaft and parried the strike in response. Countering by releasing one hand from the hilt and holding a hand against the flat of the blade, Joshua stopped the shaft of Ephraim's spear, then slid his blade along the length of the spear and tried for a slash to bisect him top and bottom.

Fortunately, not only was the blade wooden and dull, Ephraim swung the butt of the spear around in an uppercut slash that Joshua parried, then brought the staff over his head for a slash (which the redhead ducked under) and a recovery stab (which he sidestepped and parried simultaneously). The two kings stopped long enough to claim breathing room, and shared a feral grin.

Eirika frowned tentatively – why was Joshua fighting Ephraim? "What are they doing?" she inquired of nobody.

"They are merely sparring, milady," Seth replied from his seat on a nearby boulder.

"Yes, but why?"

Seth shrugged. "If I may offer my opinion…"

"Please," Eirika replied.

"I believe that the two simply wish to test their strength against each other. They are both proud fighters and kings, and they wish to know their skill and how they fare against each other."

"And why would they want to do that?" continued the cerulean-haired queen.

"It is in the heart of all warriors."

The firm reply behind her caused Eirika to turn her head and face Marisa, who had approached the scene along with a few of the mercenaries in their company.

"Warriors live to test themselves. They want to know their power, their limits, so that they may surpass them. Warriors wish to know the full extent of their potential, and the best way to know and stretch one' limits is through challenges."

Eirika nodded absently and turned to face the sparring duo. Ephraim had spoken of the desire to fight before, and said that he was confused as to its origins. Was it because he was a man? Was it his training? Apparently, Joshua, Marisa, and many of the others in their company were also motivated to grow stronger – the lilac-haired swordmaster said all warriors felt this desire.

_No – of course I would not have such a wish. I am no fighter. I want peace and happiness. …Is that how Ephraim finds happiness? Joshua, as well? They know that they fought to protect Magvel, their nations, and their companions. We all did. But…perhaps they simply desire to fight, as Marisa said?_ It certainly helped explain why Innes was so obsessed with outdoing Ephraim in the fields of war.

_No, fearing that they might turn to savagery is foolish. They are better than that…_. "Thank you, Marisa. I believe I understand men and their ways a little better now."

* * *

If there was anything Joshua hated more than a day of bad luck, it was fighting a spearman on Ephraim's level. On one level, it was fun. In other news, he could get kebabed pretty quickly. 

Twisting out of the way of another thrust, he parried the second stab and quickly moved to close the distance. His slash was blocked, so he twisted his forearms and feigned a slash in the other direction, which Ephraim moved to parry with the butt of his spear. Rather than slash, however, Joshua brought the sword to waist level, clearing the haft of Ephraim's weapon and opening the window to stab.

Ephraim lowered the shaft of the spear to parry the stab, but the wooden tip poked into Ephraim's abdomen before he could catch him, and he grunted in response.

"That's three to four," Joshua announced. "C'mon, Ephraim. Don't you have the advantage here? I'm catching up – and I doubt you'll stand for that." The two circled, slowly increasing the distance between them, until four full meters were between them.

"Three to five," Ephraim corrected as they stepped away from each other. "Perhaps I came out too strong and spent too much energy." Grinning weakly, he continued, "I should have known better than to expect you to forfeit after losing four straight times."

"Hey, that's only three!" the redhead countered. "You backed me into Franz's horse! It kicked me in the back, and you got me right when I was down and screaming!" Gingerly rubbing the aforementioned sore spot, he cursed under his breath and continued, "That shouldn't count." Ephraim chuckled in response, along with several of the spectators.

"Well, enough of that. Let's keep going."

Joshua lowered his sword to his side, and put on a devilish grin before charging forward. Ephraim readied his spear to intercept, but Joshua stopped short two meters away and settled into a high slide stance, crossing his forearms and pointing his sword forward. With that, he grinned once more before vanishing.

…_Unseen Flash, was it?_ Vaguely remembering Duessel's lectures on the basic principles to all of Magvel's elite sword techniques (the only kind of lecture that he could comprehend in his youth), Ephraim closed his eyes, and focused on feeling shifts in wind, in space-

_There!_ Wheeling around and stabbing, the king of Renais frowned upon seeing his spear pass through a blur. _Damn! He dodged it-_ He glanced behind himself and jabbed the butt of his spear towards his blind spot, following with a swinging stab back forward and to his left. All of his strikes simply produced the sounds of empty air being penetrated, but Ephraim still kept his guard up. He caught another movement at the corner of his vision, and spun with a backfisted stab at his assailant.

Rather than vanish again, however, Joshua reappeared at Ephraim's feet, holding the wooden blade in a reverse grip and at the aqua-haired king's throat. Ephraim did not need to look to note that his stab had been high and late, and he clicked his teeth against his tongue in dismay.

"That's four even," the red-headed king noted, his smirk clearly audible. Rising from his crouch, he slapped on a rakish grin and walked backwards to restore the distance between them.

Ephraim frowned. "Does sparring warrant the use of a lesser secret technique?"

Joshua snorted. "Your studies musta been pretty thorough…and yeah, it probably does. It's a compliment, Ephraim," he chided, "because you're that good."

The spearman chuckled. "Why, thank you, Joshua." Readying his weapon once more, he waited for Joshua to finishing walking backwards. At five meters, the redhead stopped, and Ephraim called out, "This is the deciding duel, my friend!"

Joshua rolled his neck, sighing at the popping sounds, then stopped and replied, "Win or lose. Last chance." He lowered his sword to his waist, and charged forward.

Ephraim, in turn, leveled his spear's point at Joshua and sprinted to close the distance.

Ephraim's strike came at the maximum reach of his two-meter-long spear, a swift and furious stab at Joshua's midsection. The strike was probably lethal, but Joshua would definitely dodge it.

And he did just that, crouching so low and moving so fast he seemed to be gliding across the ground rather than running.

The clash passed in a mere flicker of time, their movements so fast that they kicked up arcs of dirt.

When the dust settled, Joshua was crouched, holding his sword inches short of his opponent's nether region, and Ephraim dangled a lock of red hair and a beat-up viridian hat on the end of his spear. The desert king grinned, until he saw Ephraim's smirk in return and noticed the absence of a familiar weight on his head.

His hand instantly flashed out towards the spear tip, and his hat reappeared atop his head. The entire company responded by bursting into laughter (Marisa merely snorted derisively).

* * *

_His eyes instantly snapped open, and he quickly whirled his gaze left and right to take in his new surroundings. An endless black expanse surrounded him, but he somehow stood on thin air. Audhulma was strapped to his side, and he quickly addressed his first concern and drew his blade. When no one approached, he relaxed, but kept his weapon in hand._

A dream, _he decided. He then decided to walk forward and find whatever awaited him in this dream._

_After long minutes of strolling and finding nothing in the vast shadows, he finally saw figures in the distance. A dim gleam protruded from one of them-_

A sword.

_He sprinted forward, hoping to intercept the assailant before he attacked the other figure, who appeared to be unarmed._ Damnit, what the hell is going on? Who are those people!

_As he drew closer and closer, however, he recognized one of them._

Mother – and she's the unarmed one!

_He quickened his pace…_

…_but to no avail._

_The other figure, still shrouded by darkness, cut a clean diagonal slash through Ismaire, and Joshua screamed in rage as he saw his mother fall. Actually seeing her being cut down – it was so much worse. _

"You bastard! What the fuck is going on!_"_

_The hooded man turned to face Joshua, and he spat the desert king with a red glow from his eyes. Instantly, Joshua found that he could no longer move, regardless of how he struggled._

_Then the enigma vanished and reappeared, his back turned to Joshua, his sword in a backfisted grip in his right hand._

_The king of Jehanna found that he could only watch as the glowing blade was plunged into his gut._

_Biting back a scream, he instead grunted bloodily, coughing out the coppery liquid as he distinctly felt the sword protrude through his back._

"_Who…who the hell are you?" he demanded in a rasp and hoarse voice._

_The man did not respond._

"_Ya know…it's kinda hard…to see anything… past the cloak…and the shadows…buddy," Joshua added._

_With that, the figure reached for his own neck, undid the knot to his cloak (or so Joshua gathered – black spots were collecting in his vision, and the man's back was turned to him anyways), and cast it aside. Joshua's eyes widened at the spectacle, which was only made more menacing by a gust of wind that whipped up the untamed red hair of his assailant._

_It was himself._

_(When your ire is roused, I am with you,) said the less sane Joshua. _Great. The bastard doesn't even talk normally – he _has _to be psychic.

_(When you raise your sword, I am there._

_(Offering…a gift.)_

_Joshua spat out more blood before mustering enough energy to smirk and haughtily counter, "Gift? Gifts are free…and you sure as hell…don't look like the…giveaway type…"_

_(Search yourself. You know I am right. You delight in battle. You live for war. With each foe you cut down, you only desire more. More enemies, stronger foes, worthy challengers…you cannot resist the taste of blood._

_(Give in, and all that you desire is yours. All the power you need to claim all that you want. Your sword arm shall no know peer, and you will reign over all of Magvel.)_

_Joshua was briefly silent, collecting his thoughts to offer a decent riposte._

"_I…mighta done that…back when…but…things have…changed!" After another wet fit of coughing, the Tempest King continued. "I live…to defend…my allies…I've got…a promise…to keep, damnit!" Joshua grimaced, noting with considerable displeasure that the pain in his gut was subsiding – along with his other sensations._

_Somehow, though, that didn't stop his insane doppelganger's voice from ringing audibly in his ears. (So you say…but you know otherwise. You will not reject this power. You may act the fool, but you are not one, Joshua of Jehanna.)_

"_Heh…I'd never say…shit like that…" the feisty redhead countered. "Who are you…seriously?"_

"_Evil" Joshua chuckled blandly. I am what you fear…I am your future._

_With that, he shoved Joshua off of his blade roughly. The redhead stood briefly, lingering in the air before plunging backwards, his sensations, the last vestiges of his life force-_

_

* * *

_

Joshua's eyes snapped open once more, and a cold rush coursed throughout his body as he bolted upright, panting and sweating from his nightmare.

"Shit, holy shit, what the fuck was that!" he hissed aloud. He quickly stumbled out of his tent and raised the flap.

_Oh yeah…I retired early._ The sun was only beginning to set, and several members of the company were frolicking about in the dwindling sunlight.

"Tch." Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he went back inside to finish donning the rest of his clothes, knowing he wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon.

_What the hell was that dream about? …Ah, well, I need some guidance, anyways. Let's go see Father Moulder…_

Tugging his hat by the brim to eye level, Joshua walked out into the dawning twilight. He idly strolled by the soldiers and mercenaries gathered round the stray fires, who were trading stories and some evidently riotous jokes. Yawning and stretching as he walked, his gait was relaxed and easy, totally devoid of the kind of clear and focused intent, say, Ephraim might have walked with.

Just as he walked into eyeshot of the healer's tents, he saw something – or someone – very familiar. A blonde dressed in the teal robes of a Latonan Bishop.

_Great…everyone's favorite priestess_. Joshua put on a rakish grin and continued to saunter forward without changing pace.

"How's our favorite cleric been?" he casually inquired once he came within earshot.

Natasha started, but relaxed visibly and smiled upon seeing Joshua. "Um…yes, I have been well, Joshua."

The redhead grinned again. "Great. You remembered." She gave him a quizzical look, to which he replied with, "I don't like formalities."

"Ah…yes." Natasha grew silent once more, and a few awkward seconds passed.

"Well, if you don't need me, I've gotta get some divine guidance from ol' Father Moulder." Joshua canted his head and thumbed his hat as he passed, and continued on his way to the healer's tents.

"Joshua." He stopped in response, without turning around to face her.

"That day when we first met…that wager you made with me…do you remember?"

The redhead chuckled in response. "Course."

"If…if the coin had landed on heads…would you…would you have killed me?"

Joshua shut his eyes and sighed. Briefly considering how to answer her question, he rummaged through his pockets and pinched one of the coins that would help him do just that. Spinning on his heel and striding over to Natasha, he reached for her hand held to her chest. He ignored her startled gasp and blush, and pressed the coin into her palm. "Tell ya what – I'm a bit busy. That should answer your question." He turned around once more and walked off to the tents.

Her gaze trailed away from the desert king and to the coin in her hand. _Tails…_ Grabbing it in her forefinger and thumb, she hesitantly raised it to the moonlight, and slowly turned it around.

The other side was tails, as well.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped softly. "Joshua…"

* * *

"Er…Father Moulder?" 

_Hm…is that King Joshua? …Well, my prayers were finished, anyways…_. The aging priest rose to his feet and turned to face the mercenary king. "You called, Ki…Joshua?"

Joshua canted his head and idly noted, "Heh. Looks like you got word about me, huh?"

Moulder smiled underneath his thick moustache in response. "Even I can hear stray bits of gossip from the soldiers. A king who hated titles quite pleasantly surprised them, so I gathered."

The redhead chuckled in response. "Looks like I might have my popular support after all, no?"

"Did you expect otherwise?" the priest replied. "You are quite amiable, and many of our fighters have enjoyed great laughs and good times thanks to you. The peasantry would adore you…and I doubt you would have it any other way." Joshua chuckled again in response.

"But I sense that you have come to me for more than mere pleasantries. …What troubles you, Joshua?"

The king of Jehanna worked his jaw pensively for several moments. "I…I know that my duties as king of Jehanna are going to seriously complicate my life. I've been gone for ten years, and I've gotta make it up. I promised my mother to rule my nation and guide it well. …And I think I know how to do that." Moulder nodded, encouraging Joshua to continue.

"International relations got shot to hell – oh man, sorry, Father, I shouldn'ta-"

Moulder offered an understanding smile. "I have known many people from many walks of life. I have heard all manner of curses. If it helps you, speak as you please."

Joshua nodded. "Well, anyways, international relations were wrecked by Grado's surprise invasion, so I reasoned that the way to help reduce international tensions was to take a bride from the royalty of another nation. L'Arachel is out, Tana is…well, it didn't take much to deduce that she wasn't my type. …So that left Eirika."

"Hm," Moulder quietly noted. Several minutes passed in silence as the priest carefully considered what he was told and the swordmaster patiently waited for a response.

"You are unsure of how to approach Princess Eirika. You know the death of Prince Lyon has stricken her hard, and you want to give her space. And yet, you still wish to court her…am I correct?"

Joshua sighed grimly. "Somewhat…it's confusing, really." Moulder raised an eyebrow out of curiosity, but Joshua continued all the same.

"All the pieces are there. She's a princess, a real nice girl, beautiful, good with a sword…I couldn't wish for a better woman, I honestly couldn't. But…geez, I finally see the perfect prize and I start thinking that I shouldn't even bother. I mean…I used to be a fearless and shameless womanizer – what the hell's wrong with me?"

Moulder frowned. _This can't be good._ "What do you mean?"

Joshua remained silent for a good while longer, then hesitantly offered, "…Well, she's already got a support net, ya know? Ephraim, Tana – hell, even Seth and Saleh have known her in a personal manner longer than I have. She's already got a bunch of people to rely on, so it's like she doesn't even need me. Then there's Lyon's death, which she'll need time and space to get over. Not only is this just a horrible time to be trying to court her, it's as if her friends and her brother already fill any void there might be in her life. It makes me question if I should even be tryin' to go after her. I mean, she'll be happy without me, right? So what does she need me for?"

"…An old proverb from Latona comes to mind." Joshua canted his head at the bishop in response, and Moulder continued. "'Go where you do not seem to be necessary, and stay until you are indispensable.' You may not perceive yourself as vital to Eirika's life, but if you wish to woo her, perhaps you should simply stay by her side, and be a good friend. The majority of prosperous marriages I have seen blossomed from a deep friendship – perhaps you may follow suit."

Joshua fell silent at Moulder's advice. "…Yeah. I guess so. That makes sense…yeah. I could do that. Ya know what? I'll take back my wager with her for now, so she can get some space and sort out her feelings."

The senior bishop raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Wager?"

Joshua smiled dimly. "Heh…yeah. I bet her that if she didn't confess her love for me in six months, I'd revoke my right to seek her hand in marriage."

"…That seems to have been undue pressure on her." Moulder paused at length, pondering the implications of Joshua's wager briefly before adding, "You make a wise choice, I believe."

"Heh…I guess. Thanks, Father Moulder. I'll get outta your hair."

"I live to serve, young man. And I shall pray for success in all your matters."

"Huh…thanks," Joshua replied. He turned on his heel and pushed aside the fold of the tent on his way out.

* * *

"…Hya!" Eirika lashed out with another deep lunge and thrust, then immediately sidestepped and mimed a parry before stabbing into the air again. 

"Every time we practice, your form gets even better, sister," Ephraim noted from his perch atop a rock. "Duessel tells me he has not seen a natural talent like yours in years, and I agree with him."

Eirika flushed red at her brother's praise. "I-I could not bear to see someone I know get hurt because I could not help them. I practiced whenever I could, and I still hope to, even after we return home. The war may be over, but I doubt the violence is." Ephraim nodded in assent.

Rising from his seat, Ephraim said, "That should be it for today, Eirika. It's getting too dark to continue, so we should retire."

"Yo."

The twins flinched in surprise, but looked up at the armory tent's entrance to see Joshua hanging upside-down off the support strut by his legs, a simple metal sword in hand.

"Ah, Joshua…I doubt hanging on the pole like that is good for the tent. If it falls on you…" Ephraim trailed off.

"Tch. Fine, worrywart," the redhead countered. Snapping his legs straight, he landed and handsprung up with practiced ease.

"Isn't it late to start practicing?" Eirika idly inquired. "It's dusk right now…"

"Meh. I went to sleep the moment we set up camp, so I need to burn some energy if I want to get a good night's rest on top of that nap." Joshua shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll just swing a sword around 'til I get tired."

"Well…in that case, good night, Joshua," the king of Renais replied. He turned and started walking towards his tent, but paused when he sensed that Eirika had not immediately followed him. "Is something wrong, sister?"

"…" She was briefly silent, and eventually replied with, "Go on ahead, Ephraim."

He crooked an eyebrow in response, but shrugged and continued on without a word.

Joshua smirked mischievously. "Oh…wanted some time alone with me?" He chuckled at Eirika's bemused smile, and began to idly twirl his sword. "Ya need to say somethin'?" Eirika did not respond for some time, so Joshua interrupted the silence with, "Well, I actually needed to tell ya somethin', too."

"Hm?" Eirika slowly walked closer to Joshua, and stopped a few inches in front of him.

"…I…I'm gonna rescind our wager. For now, I mean."

"What?" Confusion rang clearly in her voice. "Why? Don't you need to…?"

"Yeah…I thought about it…and I realized that whatcha really need right now is space. I figured that after Lyon, you might not be very happy about dealing with romance, so…"

Eirika frowned in response. "Well…I hadn't thought of it like that…. I appreciate your offer to give me room, but…I should not dwell on the past like that. …Lyon would not want me to do such things, I think. …No, I know. I know he wouldn't want me to wallow in my sorrows. He would want me to move on, to bring prosperity to Magvel and to find happiness."

Joshua offered another comprehending smirk. "Heh…you two really are alike." Eirika looked at him quizzically, and he replied, "Ephraim said the same thing. And you're both right. Mourning is good and all, but it's good that neither of you are stuck on the past."

The blue-haired queen paused briefly. "…Well, what about you? Your mother died right in your arms…your _mother_…but I did not see you grieve much. Do you see things that way?"

"…" The mirth vanished from Joshua's face, and he blinked slowly before eventually replying, "I've gotten used to seeing friends die. And my mother's gone because I wasn't there. It's my fault she's dead, so it's my job to make it up to her and to the nation she ruled…the nation I'm gonna rule…by doing the best I can. This is my new job – I don't have time to waste on grief, do I?"

Eirika fell silent, and considered his words carefully as Joshua started practicing some advanced swordplay forms. She watched as he spun his sword furiously, wove through complex slash combinations, and even switched hands behind his back as he sliced invisible foes by the dozen – all while staying in the same area.

"…Doesn't it hurt? Didn't your mother's death hurt? …I always see you being so cheery and friendly, ready to tease, to make us laugh and smile, but you never seem willing to involve us in your problems. …That's what you did after your mother died…"

* * *

"_Joshua…" the queen of Jehanna weakly whispered. She slowly raised a hand to touch her son's face, softly breathing, "My dear…sweet, child…." With that, Ismaire breathed her last, and surrendered to the darkness._

_Joshua shut his eyes forcefully, fighting the stinging sensation in the back of his eyes as he choked on sobs and struggled to retain his tears. "Mother…" he murmured breathlessly. His jaw and fist tightened, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stem the tears._

_A grim silence fell over all else who were present. Gerik pulled off his headband and bowed his head in respect (as did Innes), L'Arachel knelt to whisper a quick prayer for the late queen's soul, and Saleh followed suit in his own manner._

_Eirika swallowed nervously, then stepped forward towards Joshua when he interrupted the tense silence with a soft command. "Everyone…go. Get out. Leave me alone."_

_Eirika blinked, startled by his demand. Her eyes hardened with determination, and she stepped forward again when a hand on her shoulder interrupted her. She spun and faced the source of the hand with some confusion. "Master Saleh…"_

"…_Princess. I would suggest that we do as he says," the light-haired sage admonished. "Let him grieve on his own terms." Having offered his own curt advice, he left the room._

_Eirika turned to Joshua, and tried one more time. "But…"_

"_Just go," Joshua repeated more forcefully, his voice marred by sorrow._

_The princess of Renais gave the redhead one more despairing glance, but he never looked up. Nodding once, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving Joshua, the itinerant prince of a broken nation, to grieve in solitude._

_

* * *

_

Joshua worked his jaw briefly. "…Secrets I couldn't give away. Things I had to come to terms to on my own. I couldn't have done what I did if I wasn't alone. Sorry, but that's just how it was, Eirika."

She grew silent, unable to immediately produce a response.

"Heh…don't worry, though. If I need help in the future, I'll be sure to get at least one of you guys to gimme a hand, ah? Whole is greater than the sum and all that."

Eirika smiled warmly. "That…that is good. Please, Joshua – don't hold us at arm's length. We'll be here for you."

Joshua replied with a wan grin. "Hn…well, you'd better get going. Get some sleep. I'm gonna practice some more before I turn in. G'night, Eirika."

"Mm…good night, Joshua." She turned and left Joshua to his own devices, this time with a halcyon smile.

* * *

I hate: 

- Writer's block.

I love:

Dane Cook

Path of Radiance

Super Smash Bros. Melee

Resident Evil 4 (though I only rented it)

Get the picture? And Pulp Fiction kicks ass – it _is_ a Tarantino movie, after all. If you can't handle gore, however…

Obviously, Ephraim didn't enjoy needing to kill Lyon, which was the idea I was trying to get across. Angst is defined as uneasiness or misgivings, of which Ephraim never has any. That, however, doesn't mean that his actions didn't hurt him on a personal level. That was the point of that small section about Ephraim's thoughts on killing Lyon – the choice was necessary, but it sure wasn't pleasant.

In retrospect, I may not have done those flashbacks quite how I envisioned them, especially since I have seen some extremely badass swordplay in DMC3 (and I plan to buy SE over spring break in order to play as Vergil, who kicks serious ass). Watch for notices concerning a redo.


	5. Guiding Presence

_**On Epiphanies**_

**Disclaimer:** No own FE. That why I no rich.

"speech"

_thoughts / flashbacks / emphasis / etc._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 4: Guiding Presence

* * *

**

_A twisted cackle awoke the king of Renais. Ephraim's eyes snapped open and he jumped to his feet._

_Almost immediately, he wished that he hadn't._

_A figure shrouded wholly in black stood over the blood-soaked corpse of his sister._

_Ephraim grit his teeth and sprinted forward, hoping to at least see whom this was._ This is a dream, for sure…but what might it mean? Lyon said that our dreams have meanings, if memory serves…well, it certainly hasn't served _me_ very well. _If this dream did have a message, it certainly couldn't mean good tidings for Eirika._

_Presumably having gotten within earshot, he then shouted, "Who are you? And what's the meaning of this!"_

_That same throaty chuckle repeated itself, echoing in the black nothingness of Ephraim's dream. "When you are not where you are needed most…catastrophe shall strike…your power shall fail you. You shall know endless pain and regret…and I shall have my revenge…"_

Revenge? _Ephraim pondered to himself. "What do you mean, twisted cur?"_

"_I am the one without limit, the one who cannot be defeated…you know who I am. And you will quake in fear of that fact before you die."_

_The mysterious figure turned to face Ephraim, and he saw a red glow, seething with bloodlust and avarice, almost like the eyes of-_

Ephraim jerked awake, and shoved off the sheets in a panic. _Deep breaths,_ he advised himself, taking solace in the soothing rays of morning sunlight that splashed across the tent fabric.

"Brother? What's wrong?" Eirika turned from her morning grooming to face her brother, giving him a concerned look.

"A small nightmare…nothing to worry about."

"…If you say so," Eirika replied at length. If Ephraim did not want to share his problems, wheedling him to confess would not help (to say nothing of Eirika not being the type to wheedle in the first place).

* * *

"Say, Joshua?" 

Yawning and scratching at his hair placidly, Joshua slowly turned to face the talkative princess of Frelia. "Hm?"

"Why _do_ you wear that?" Tana gave his viridian hat a scrutinizing gaze. "It's…it's just so old and worn out and…and tacky. It doesn't look like it belongs on a king at all."

_Geez. This is what I get for waking up late and being the last person to eat breakfast – a nosy princess. Why Tana is still eating, though, I couldn't imagine…_. "What, you thought I was gonna wear it sitting on my throne? That I'm gonna show up at all the royal functions wearing this thing?" Joshua sardonically inquired, jerking a thumb at his hat. Pausing briefly, he shrugged, continuing, "…I might, but that would be just to see their reactions. I _am_ aware that I have to be a king real soon, Tana."

Tana shook her head resignedly. "You make a very convincing case, Joshua. I dearly hope your attitude about this didn't run in the family…"

The redhead snorted in response, and snapped, "Yeah, well, running away for ten years isn't exactly a family thing, either." He punctuated his annoyance by flipping his empty bowl of soup (potatoes and beef with cheese) into the large water tub that held the company's dishes, where it landed with an audible _spthloop_. _How the hell does that thing stay free of mold, anyways? Magic?_ Joshua briefly wondered.

The wyvern knight cringed. "I…I apologize, Joshua. I just…I believe you would be so much more handsome and presentable without that old rag on top of your head."

Sighing, he rubbed his forehead gingerly with closed eyes. "Damnit, I'm too old to be flattered by that kind of comment. Maybe six years ago…but then again, six years ago, you were only a kid."

Tana snarled in exasperation. "Talking to you is so difficult sometimes! And why six years?"

Joshua sighed once more. "Never mind. Thanks for the grub," he called out to Syrene as he rose from his seat on a rock and left the company's makeshift kitchen. The Pegasus captain responded with a serene smile.

Tana shook her head and sighed. "Ugh…I don't understand why he always acts like this! It's like he's _trying_ to make me mad!"

The veteran knight raised an eyebrow at her liege. "If I may be frank, Princess, I…do believe you brought up a rather painful subject with King Joshua."

"Hm? Oh…but that was…oh, you're right, Syrene. But still, why does he bait me with some sort of curious comment, then just run off before I can figure out what he's trying to say?"

"Perhaps it is merely how he speaks," the green-haired captain suggested. "Or perhaps you are looking too far into his comment. Six years ago, he would have been…eighteen, I believe. Not far removed from childhood himself."

Tana frowned pensively, but did not respond to her mentor's speculation.

* * *

A frown had etched itself deeply into Prince Innes's face. Pensive scowling was nothing new for the prodigious strategist, but he had spent the last two riding hours mulling over an arena of his royal career he had paid little attention to beforehand. 

Politics.

Magvel after this war was very much a different place. The largest nation had been stripped of its royal family, and now only held a shattered army and a ravaged land. The surprise betrayal conducted by Grado had shaken bonds and trust everywhere – royal courts would now be more wary than ever. Spies would undoubtedly travel to every corner of the other nations to keep a close eye on potential hostilities.

And a missing prince would return to his broken kingdom.

With this thought, Innes turned an analytical gaze to Joshua, soon to be the king of Jehanna (assuming, of course, no revolt or assassination happened). The man was an anomaly, carrying properties of both a great king and a complete oaf.

On the one hand, he was amicable, skilled in the arts of war and deceit (his erratic poker face and tactics always unsettled his foes in card games), hardened and wizened by his mercenary career, daring, innovative (Dracozombie slaying that involved launching Audhulma out of Nidhogg came to mind), and an active problem solver. He would likely be a congenial ruler with respect from Magvel's military elements, and would likely be able to hold his own in kingly and political fields (if he ever got used to giving orders – something Innes had never seen him do much of).

However, he was also a compulsive gambler, irritatingly flaky, occasionally contrary and recalcitrant (not to mention reckless), and then there was the whole matter of his having left Jehanna Hall to be a mercenary. Some of the populace might not take kindly to the return of this prodigal son, and the nobility would not be fond of a king who might treat their servile ways as a joke (or worse). At that moment in Innes's thoughts, Joshua stretched out wide and yawned at length, prompting the Frelian prince to add the double-edged sword category to the redhead's traits and put "carefree" in that list.

"Hey!" Tana swooped in from aboard the Pegasus she once rode into combat. The horse lightly landed on the ground and resumed a trotting pace alongside the rest of the royalty group. "Did I miss anything?"

"Only Innes staring at me for five minutes straight. It's kinda creepy," Joshua quipped in response. Tana giggled, Eirika smiled and shook her head, Innes did not respond, and Ephraim turned with an inquisitive look, oblivious as to what was so funny.

Innes sniffed. "Charming. I hope you can do the same with the Jehan populace, considering your absence during the invasion. Some will not take kindly to a man who they will perceive as having abandoned them for ten years – you are not oblivious to this."

_Not a question, but a statement…he's got it figured out, doesn't he?_ Joshua shrugged in response. "Meh…I've gotten very used to not caring about what people have to say about me. When you swindle money or" – here, he paused to thumb his hat – "prized possessions away from as many people as I have, you hear some pretty colorful descriptions of yourself."

"What?" Ephraim echoed. "You tricked somebody to get that hat?"

"Watching him bubble over with fury was amusing. He wasn't about to start a fight, though – a horde of drunken mercenaries in a bar made that a pretty damn stupid idea." The redhead chuckled. "Man, I could be a total dick back then. Didn't like doing it, though…guess that's why she always called me soft." The last part, he muttered under his breath.

Eirika frowned inquisitively. "She?"

Rather than reply, Joshua instead asked Innes, "What about you? You've gotta be pretty miffed that Ephraim is becoming a king and you're not. Don't tell me you've forgotten about that."

The gray-haired prince wrinkled his nose. "I was hoping to. Not that Ephraim would gloat about it, but I do not enjoy the prospect of being inferior to him, nor would I enjoy being reminded of that fact every time I go to see him."

Ephraim shook his head. "I do not care for such distinctions, Innes. You will still be a worthy rival." Eirika glared at her brother briefly, and he subsequently added, "…and a good friend." Innes snorted in response, and Joshua shook his head and chuckled.

"Say, what're we doing about Mt. Neleras, anyways? I kinda doubt hiking that after sunset is smart," the swordmaster noted, casually pointing at the steam rising from the craggy peaks and lava-filled valleys therein.

"It would be best to traverse it in one day – camping in those peaks is unwise. I would advise stopping at the foot of the mountain for the night, and beginning the trek at sunrise," Innes curtly suggested.

Ephraim shrugged. "So be it. Sound advice, Innes."

"I'll spread the word!" Tana volunteered. She then took off once more to the rear of the caravan.

* * *

Joshua idly surveyed the camp from atop his seat on a short, broad (and thankfully flat) rock. The tents, campfires and roosts to tie the mounts to had been set up with a slightly less-than-military efficiency – something likely brought on by exhaustion and complacency resulting from the end of the war. Ross was carefully weighing a set of pebbles on a balance with Ewan nearby shaking his head, Franz and Forde were sparring on foot (dismounted fighting being a classic problem with cavalry), and…was that Saleh with Eirika? Joshua shrugged – he was too old and jaded for petty jealousy, and the sage had all the libido (and romantic prowess, most likely) of a slice of cheese. 

"Hey." Joshua looked up at the familiar voice and saw Gerik. The burly mercenary hefted a claymore onto his shoulder and offered the king a friendly grin. "You up for that match you promised me?"

He lifted a brow in response. "Last time we talked about it, you made such a fight seem like a useless formality."

The older man chuckled. "Oh, getting to fight you is definitely _not_ a useless formality."

Joshua grinned and shook his head. "I'd rather not burn myself out before having to hike Mount Neleras. Once we're in Jehanna, I'll take you on. How's that sound?"

"If that's what you want," the green-haired war veteran replied, setting the point of his blade down into the ground. A brief, comfortable silence passed between the two before Joshua began to stroke his chin thoughtfully.

"What do you think of Eirika?"

The question caught the mercenary off guard, and he looked at Joshua oddly. "Why ask me? I don't know her well."

Joshua turned to look at Gerik and replied, "Let's just say this is your first assignment as my general and advisor."

Gerik laughed aloud. "Training for the job, eh? …Well…what do you want me to say?"

"The truth?"

"Heh. 'Course…well, uh…she's beautiful, good with a sword, and very kind. Naïve and gullible, too. Once we get back to our homes, though, I think being a queen will fix that real quick-like."

"And if it doesn't?"

Gerik shrugged. "Then it doesn't. Regardless, I doubt King Ephraim will allow anyone to exploit his sister like that, so it shouldn't matter in the long run."

"Don't you think it'd be better for her to be able to fend for herself in that arena? Much as he will try, Ephraim won't always be there for her," Joshua pondered aloud.

"Well, sure, it'd be better. Eirika has herself some safety net, though, even in politics – she knows folks in high circles from across Magvel, and they can vouch for her and maybe even help her."

Something flashed in Joshua's eyes briefly, and he continued to work his jaw and stroke his chin, deep in thought. At length, he eventually replied, "…Yeah. I guess we could help her."

"Well, 'course you would. After surviving something like _that_, you'd all be willing to, right?" What _that_ was – or rather, had been – was rather obvious to both of them.

"…Yeah."

Gerik looked at Joshua briefly, then nodded once. The redhead's unsaid words were clear.

* * *

"Hey, could I talk to you real quick?" 

Eirika turned to see Joshua motioning for her to follow him to the far side of another tent. The day's supper was soon to be served, and she had intended to see if she could help with the cooking. Reasoning they could ultimately do without her help, however, she followed the redhead.

"Yes. What do you need, Joshua?" she inquired once Joshua had stopped.

He sighed deeply in response. "…I, uh…I've been thinkin' 'bout somethin' since the first time we met. " His voice sounded rather subdued compared to his normal speech, and Eirika blinked in surprise.

"…And…well, uh…I can't quite keep it to myself any more. Guess I'm the only one who'd put it like this to ya." With that, he took a slow step towards Eirika, steadily followed by another. A third step, and he leaned in to meet Eirika's now-uncertain gaze only an inch away. She flinched and stood rigidly, her clear cerulean eyes meeting his ruby orbs with half-terrified anticipation, and she subconsciously raised her hands to keep the space between his body and hers, though she didn't touch him (Latona forbid!). His expression remained unreadable and even despite his proximity.

"What…what do you mean?" the blue-haired queen pondered, nearly on the verge of panicking, giving him a skeptical glance. _Could…could he be…but didn't he say that…?_

"What's come over you, Joshua?" Eirika asked.

He responded by slowly raising a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her right (his left) ear. She flinched once more in response, and he continued by leaning in towards her.

Past her, where his soft but monotone whisper was almost not at all separated from her exposed ear.

"You're too easy."

She jerked in response, very nearly hitting Joshua in the jaw with her shoulder as he stepped back. "W-what!"

He grinned mischievously. "You're way too trusting. You obviously aren't enthused by the idea of me being that close to you, since you froze stiffer than a Frelian mountaintop, so why are you letting me this close to you?" She opened her mouth in protest, but he dismissed it with a curt wave of his hand.

"Seriously, though. Eirika, sometimes, you want something, _you_ have to make it happen. Case in point, you coulda stepped outta the way, or pushed me back. I _can_ take a hint, ya know – unless, of course, you actually _wanted_ me to…"

"W-what?" she squawked in protest. "N-No! Never! I – no, I mean-!"

His good-natured chuckle interrupted her flustered apology. "Teasing you is so easy, it's almost not fun."

He failed to hide a broad grin as he saw Eirika's best attempt at pouting – an admittedly poor one, compared to some past instances of flirting and much lewder innuendo on his part. However, she sighed and quit visibly stewing, meekly replying, "I suppose you're right, Joshua. …Maybe I should exert more…force of personality. I…I just…"

The desert king smirked. "Not your thing, I know. Givin' orders and runnin' a kingdom ain't my thing, either, but I've still gotta do my best. You do the same, too, huh? Politics is _made_ of backstabbing and toadying, so you shouldn't hand out your trust or acquiescence so easily, alright? I know you can be stubborn – you just need to learn how to say no." With that last comment, he cheerily sauntered off to the supper.

He did not see Eirika smile softly, but he did hear her say, "Thank you," and smiled to himself. _Just sowin' the seeds…_

* * *

This chapter isn't as long as I would have liked it to be, but I had to break it off here. The next few sections need to be all in the same chapter to flow right, and this is the best spot to cut it off without making an excessively long chapter. Besides, I don't wanna keep the loyal readers in limbo for _too_ long – I'm not writing an epic like, say, Servant of GOD. 


End file.
